


Not a Courtship

by Amuscaria



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms
Genre: Accidental Marriage, Cultural Differences, Culture Shock, Dubious Consent, F/M, Lady is Alive, Lady the Matchmaker, Language Barrier, Misunderstandings, Wildling Courtship, Wildling Culture & Customs, Wildling Sandor Clegane, Wildling Wedding, lots of misunderstandings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:09:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 27,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26336977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amuscaria/pseuds/Amuscaria
Summary: Sansa has certainly not married a wildling. She was a lady and she knew everything about weddings. Surely, she would have noticed?
Relationships: Joffrey Baratheon/Sansa Stark, Sandor Clegane/Sansa Stark
Comments: 199
Kudos: 356





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> SanSan story with misunderstandings and an accidental marriage. I know, what a shockingly novel idea from me. This time, let's add a big cultural clash and a tiny little language barrier.  
> Sansa is still the same Sansa, but Sandor is a wildling. He has nothing to do with the Lannisters and the South. Sansa and Sandor don’t even speak the same language at the beginning.  
> The wildling language is represented by the language of my mother, Yakut, and there is some Sakha inspiration when it comes to clothing, or food, but the described culture and customs are completely fictional. I’m mostly just having some fun with cultural misunderstandings.  
> I didn’t think I’d post this story, so I created the story Repulsed using some of the same themes. I changed my mind about posting this, however, there are still many similarities with Repulsed. Although this isn’t a serious story, consider yourself warned for dubious consent.  
> The idea of a wildling Sandor is not new, there are already two wonderful wildling-Sandor stories that I have read and recommend to everyone:  
> Wild at Heart by Littlefeather: https://archiveofourown.org/works/496019  
> The Summer Maid by Maroucia: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12134571

Winter has come. Winter has come and Ned Stark let the Wildlings south of the Wall. The whole world was talking about it, the whole world was grumbling and Sansa wasn’t sure she’d be able to justify her father’s actions in front of strangers. Her father had spent three moon turns behind the Wall and it had changed him, Sansa didn’t understand him now. He said that they needed to get prepared for a war, but he himself invited the enemy in their midst! What if he’d lost his mind behind the wall? What if the Wildlings had put some horrible spell on him? Oh, how much Sansa wished her dear Joffrey was there with her, he’d tell her what to do. She was a good girl, she couldn’t doubt her father’s judgement. And yet…

“I think a wildling man would make for a much better husband than Joffrey,” Arya proclaimed as she got down off the horse. She was Sansa’s sister, but she was nothing like her at all. Arya was often discourteous and she couldn’t even embroider well. She was much better than Sansa with horses, though, even now she easily jumped down without help, unlike Sansa. Sansa admired Arya’s determination to do things her own way, no matter what anyone thought. Sometimes Sansa secretly wanted to be able to live like that, too, to somehow ignore other people’s opinions and follow her own heart. It seemed very freeing. Sansa got down like a true lady, though, her movements graceful and refined. Sansa perhaps couldn’t defy other people’s expectations, but hopefully she could exceed them. 

“How can you say that, Arya?” Sansa scolded her sister gently. “Have you any idea what such a man would do to you?”

“He’d give me a choice, that’s what he’d do. And you’re just prejudiced.”

Sansa shook her head. Ladies were never prejudiced, ladies were kind and understanding. Sansa didn’t need to voice that, of course, Arya knew that well enough. That was the worst thing, Arya knew exactly like she should behave and how she should talk, she just didn’t care. And her direwolf was like that, too, Nymeria ran into the city without care. Did Arya have any idea how many people would get scared?

“Lady!” Sansa smiled at her direwolf. Lady was different than Arya’s direwolf. She never left Sansa’s side, she was unbelievably sweet and loving. Each of the Stark children had their own direwolf, but Sansa’s one was the prettiest one, there was no doubt about it. Besides, Lady always looked like she was smiling brightly. Even the wildlings around them froze in astonishment, staring at the beauty of Sansa’s direwolf. Sansa looked at Lady with pride. Lady was smaller than Nymeria, she was delicate, only as tall as a pony, and she loved people, children in particular. Lady wouldn’t scare anyone like Nymeria, of course, she was delightful. 

Sansa turned to her sister. “I have nothing against the Free Folk, I want to help them, why do you think I’m bringing them food?”

“Because father told us to do so?” Arya snorted. “You’ve been complaining about wildlings ever since father invited them!”

Sansa pursed her lips. “I never complain. I just believe some of their customs are not acceptable. It’s barbaric how they steal women…”

“Do you even know what tribes live in the settlement?” Arya growled in annoyance. “The stealing is just a ritual for all of them!”

“It is a horrible ritual. Even Joffrey has written me how very concerned he is about my safety.”

Joffrey was a prince, the future king of the Seven Kingdoms. And he was Sansa’s prince, Sansa had been betrothed to him for five years now! Yes, she was the future queen. She’d be Queen Sansa one day. She’d give Joffrey many strong sons that would take care of the world and she’d work to eradicate all poverty. She couldn’t wait! Next year Sansa and Joffrey would finally get married and Sansa would move to King’s Landing. She’d never been there yet, but she knew she’d love the place more than anything else. She’d thoroughly studied the history and customs of people of Seven Kingdoms, she was ready. Of course she hadn’t had time to read about Free Folk, too. She’d leave the North and she’d have her own responsibilities soon. She couldn’t have predicted that her father would invite their enemy to their land!

Sansa and Joffrey had seen each other in person only once, five years prior when the king had come to ask Sansa’s father to become the Hand of the King. Father unfortunately refused, because Sansa’s brother Bran had just got badly injured and there had been a real possibility he’d die. But Sansa and Joffrey had been betrothed anyway and they’d loved each other very much ever since. Sansa was working hard, so that she could become the most accomplished queen. It was sad that Sansa and her betrothed lived in different parts of Westeros, but their love was growing stronger every day and Joffrey wrote to her often, the loveliest letters the world had ever seen. 

Joffrey was so handsome and kind, he was always very concerned about Sansa’s safety. He’d been utterly shocked when Sansa’s father allowed Wildlings to live in the North, everyone was shocked. Sansa still didn’t know what to make of that decision, either. What was the point of the Wall anyway, if it wasn’t there to protect Seven Kingdoms from the Wildlings? Sansa’s parents said it was too complicated for the girls to understand and a horrible war was coming. Wildlings would somehow help Northerners to fight a horrible evil. But what evil could that be? Some even more beastly Wildling tribes, no doubt. There was something very sinister about them, that’s why maidens and children were not supposed to know more. 

Arya rolled her eyes. “The wildlings we have here don’t actually steal unwilling women, they’d get killed for that! And cave dwellers and people of the Frozen Shore have particularly elaborate traditions to make sure everyone gets what they want. Osha explained it to me yesterday. There’s a whole set of customs around their courtship. Usually a woman lets a man make fire for her, which tells him that he’s allowed to court her. If she doesn’t let him make fire, she’s not interested and he has to respect that. Or a woman can initiate the courtship by herself, if she shares a piece of food with him.”

Sansa wasn’t listening. Lady looked so pretty today! Did everybody see how fluffy her fur was and how white her teeth were? Sansa had known the Wildlings would be amazed by Lady’s beauty and poise, it was just like she’d pictured it. They couldn’t take their eyes off her. Why hadn’t Arya complimented Lady on the new collar? Sansa had spent two days embroidering it and it was worth it. Now Sansa’s ribbons and Lady’s collar matched. Sansa would make something like that for the wedding, too, Lady would be the most beautiful bridal direwolf.

“You know, she gives the man a bite of her reindeer meat, or something like that,” Arya continued.

“How awful,” Sansa nodded.

“What? Why? People have a choice!”

“I love reindeers,” Sansa explained simply. “They bring luck and prosperity.”

“That’s not the point, Sansa! It’s just a custom. A gesture of affection. If he accepts the food offering, he starts courting her, trying to impress her. Most girls actually offer food to several men, it’s a common thing.”

“And that’s very wicked of them!” Sansa replied distractedly and smiled at a wildling child wrapped in some gorgeous, heavily embroidered clothes. She wondered how it had been made. The skills and attention to detail of those people were really incredible, why weren’t there any wildling seamstresses yet in Winterfell? The toddler looked adorable, didn’t she want to pet Lady? Lady was so excited to see the children, they could all pet her. She’d probably want a belly rub, too.

“No, it’s not!” Arya protested. “They’re just exploring their options!”

Nymeria was nowhere to be seen, she was making trouble again, of course. Lady meanwhile behaved perfectly even without Sansa telling her a word. What had Arya been talking about? Ah, the barbaric customs of the wildlings. An utterly improper topic, as usual.

“Nobody needs to explore their options, Arya, they should make a choice and stick with it,” Sansa didn’t have time for Arya right now. She had other things to focus on. Arya was saying some bad things only to shock her anyway. But in reality, Sansa was getting a bit more nervous as they were getting deeper into the new wildling settlement. Septa Mordane was a few steps ahead of them, talking with their interpreter and she seemed a bit tense, too. Poor septa, hopefully the wildling woman wasn’t saying something too inappropriate. Sansa was trying to maintain her elegant posture and gracious movements despite her fears. She was there to help people, it wouldn’t be very polite to seem scared of them. She’d become the inspiration for the wildlings, it was a great responsibility. 

Arya shook her head. “I’d rather know what I’m getting into and wildlings think so, too. If the suitor proves his skills in making a gift for the girl and she accepts it, they are betrothed. The stealing is then just a ritual, he has to prove himself once more. If he satisfies the woman, they’re married. I guess the last part varies?” Arya wondered. “Well, all he’d have to do with you is give you a disgustingly sweet cake and you’d be satisfied enough for ten weddings.”

“It truly is barbaric,” Sansa decided. She wasn’t paying much attention, but she knew enough. Arya had mentioned reindeer meat and men proving their skills. It all probably involved a lot of unnecessary killing, too. “Poor women, getting stolen like that.”

“What?” Arya yelped. “Are you even listening to me, Sansa? It’s just fun for them.”

“That’s even sadder, if they consider abuse fun.”

“Who is abused?” Arya couldn’t just let the topic go. “When the girls are betrothed, they just want their future husband to prove their skills for the marriage. Everybody can make it whatever they want. Sometimes the girl makes her brothers fight the man, or she runs away and the man has to find her. Or the girl playfully fights with the man herself. It can be anything. The woman chooses what happens, Sansa, it’s just a custom for the man to show how skilled, or tough he is! And it’s much better than displays of bloodied sheets, if you ask me. I’d much rather playfully test a man on my wedding day than have people judge my purity. Joffrey has never had to prove anything."

“Because I am constant in my affections, I don’t need silly tests,” Sansa educated her sister. “These customs are very harmful, we need to teach the Free Folk a better way.”

“It’s just a fun ritual, it’s not serious anymore! A wildling bride is not a maiden, anyway, she’s possibly already shared bed with her new husband, probably even seen a man naked. Completely naked, you know?”

“Arya!” Sansa hissed. Arya would get into trouble again. Septa would hear her and then report Arya's behaviour to their mother. Mother had no idea Arya sometimes mentioned horrible topics like that, she'd be so disappointed! Why couldn’t Arya just pray her bad thoughts away as Sansa did?

“What?” Arya acted as if she’d done nothing wrong. “I’m just saying they know what they are doing. And if the woman changes her mind, she just returns, or burns the wedding gift and the marriage is immediately dissolved.”

“That’s appalling!” 

“No, it’s not! How many chances do women in here get to voice their opinion? Has anyone asked you if you want Joffrey?”

“Of course, I want to marry Joffrey. I’ll be the queen and my children will be princes and princesses. And I’ll eradicate poverty!”

Arya snorted. “And what if you change your mind?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, I always do everything proper.”

“That’s the problem,” Arya rolled her eyes. “Do you think anybody asked our mother for her opinion before her wedding?”

“Why would they? She was marrying father.”

“I just think these wildlings have it better. The women have a say when it comes to marriage, and even then, they can dissolve the marriage whenever they want, no problem. It’s not the end of the world for them when people make a mistakes, or change their mind. I’d much rather have a relationship like that than marry stupid Joffrey!”

Sansa sighed. Why did her sister have to like all the savage ideas? Dissolving a marriage! Who’d even consider that? Sansa wanted her marriage to Joffrey to last forever, it would be so wonderful, nothing could ever break it. She didn’t want the option to change her mind, it was so very wrong to even think of that.

But fortunately, the girls finally arrived to the main house of the new settlement and Arya hurried to Nymeria that had been scaring a group of wildlings just as Sansa had predicted. While Arya tried to explain to the wildlings that Nymeria truly wasn’t planning on eating them, Sansa and Septa Mordane said everything necessary with polite smiles. The wildlings didn’t understand normal languages anyway, smiles and graceful gestures were more important than ever.

Sansa fortunately couldn’t smell any foul odours that she’d expected and the wildlings looked surprisingly normal. They didn’t have some beastly disfigurements, or rotten teeth. They all even had beautiful clothes full of colours that Sansa wanted to learn more about. It was quite unexpected. But just as Sansa had anticipated, these people lived in frightful conditions and they were clearly deeply uneducated, they didn’t even use fork to eat. It looked very savage indeed. Sansa looked around with resolve. She had so much work to do here.


	2. Chapter 2

The wildling settlement was quite a fascinating place. Sansa had once secretly read a book about wildlings. She of course regretted it immensely and she’d made three extra prayers just to repent for it. But it had been an interesting book, it had been masterfully written by a great Highgarden septon, who described the wildling barbarism in great detail. There had been drawings, too. Sansa had often had nightmares about the wildlings ever since. That’s why it was so confusing that she couldn’t see any human bones scattered around the settlement, in fact there was a shocking lack of bones and blood everywhere. Not a single bone to be seen! The septons had done a great job with these wildlings.

The people were clean and nicely dressed, the horses well taken care of, even the roads and paths were just as good as in any northern village. But this wasn’t a northern village, was it? There were yurts instead of houses everywhere around Sansa. So many yurts. Lady kept sniffing at the biggest yurt at the very outskirts of the village, intrigued by scent of a strange animal. Not quite a direwolf, but not too different, either. The animal had left, but it clearly lived there, it was there often and it was huge. And interesting. Lady liked the scent very much, she wanted to go inside that yurt and inspect the place further. Or perhaps track him into the forest?

Sansa was startled by her wolf’s excitement, this wasn’t like her at all! Why would Lady care about some wildling beast, anyway? Sansa frowned at the three ugly dogs carved above the entrance. Shouldn’t at least the decorations make the yurts more welcoming? Fortunately, Sansa didn’t have to enter the scary yurt, the group only greeted the wildling forest workers and gave them their blessings. Sansa graciously waved at the working children and then she was led deep into the settlement again. Sansa herself had never been in a yurt before, and they turned out to be more spacious than she’d anticipated. That didn’t mean she trusted them, though. A dwelling that could be built so fast could surely collapse just as easily. And Sansa didn’t particularly like the idea of being buried under a yurt. It wasn’t a ladylike death.

So many wildlings had come south of the Wall, more tribes than Sansa had even heard about. The septon’s book hadn’t described the tribes themselves, it was more concerned with the general barbarism of them all. And Sansa had learned her lesson, she tried not to pay much attention to the wildlings, she was a lady. But now… there were so many tribes! The wildlings that spoke common tongue were mostly taken in by the northern towns and villages, although they also created many villages of their own. They were surprisingly cooperative, some of their savage tricks proved to be useful for the winter. They could somehow reach the regions unexpectedly cut off by snow and bring there much needed supplies. The wildlings were also surprisingly eager to learn how to make proper ships and they produced many great weapons from dragonglass that Sansa’s father had asked for. It wasn’t all bad. But there were many tribes who did not speak the common tongue and didn’t quite fit in. Huge settlements had to be created for them, where septons would focus their efforts and educate everyone about northern customs and the common tongue. When Sansa looked around, she could see at least four, or five completely different clothing styles of various tribes. It was a bit embarrassing to realize that she didn’t recognize any of them. They all looked like… wildlings? There were Thenns in the settlement and father liked Thenns very much, she knew that. But she didn’t know how to recognize them. In Winterfell she recognized Thenns by the unusual embroidery. But everyone had unusual embroidery here and the tribes seemed to inspire each other. Were Thenns the ones with tall hats, or with the ones with beaded headpieces? The Thenns she’d met certainly hadn’t had face paint and filed teeth, she was sure of that. Oh dear, the face paint was terrifying. Who were those people?

“The Thenn embroidery seems very intricate,” Sansa said, hoping someone would point to some Thenns and she wouldn’t have to admit her lack of knowledge. Embroidery of all the tribes was very complicated and detailed, so it wasn’t a lie.

Osha, their wildling guide, only nodded. “Each clan has a different style.”

Fascinating. And also utterly unhelpful.

Sansa smiled politely. “Their necklaces are beautiful, too.”

“Thenns sometimes get a bit too carried away, don’t they,” Osha snorted in a very inappropriate manner. “And you should see how tall those bloody hats can get.”

Ha! Yes, Sansa had succeeded! Of course, she’d succeeded. Thenns were the ones with tall hats, Sansa had thought so! Lady sensed her excitement and she looked at her in surprise, trying to figure out what had made Sansa so happy. Sansa’s own cleverness was making Sansa happy, Lady shouldn’t be so surprised. Lady woofed and nudged her with her snout in a teasing gesture. Sansa beamed at her, too. Very well, they were both clever.

“Are you hurt, m’lady?” Osha gasped.

“No, why should I be?”

“Well, your beast…” Osha looked at Lady, then shook her head and left the sentence unfinished.

“I haven’t seen any Nightrunners yet,” Arya meanwhile complained.

“They’re not here. It would have made more sense if we got the Nightrunners here, but you know how it’s with the Hornfoots,” Osha shrugged. “Nightrunners are better off at the Gift with giants.”

“That was a clever solution,” Sansa appreciated. She had no idea what she was appreciating, but it was a polite thing to say. She was certainly glad the Giants weren’t there, she was sure they’d want to eat her. Arya snickered at her. She understood Sansa a bit too much, which often made her quite insufferable.

Nightrunners were not there, good. Sansa had never heard about them before anyway, she could do without Nightrunners. And Hornfoots… Hornfoots. That name wasn’t any more familiar to her. Sansa quietly observed everyone’s feet. Oh dear. There were men with horrible, ugly feet without boots, without anything covering their feet at all! Their feet had the colouring of a very dead person, they didn’t look human at all. What… What? What had those people done to their feet?! Very well, the name was fitting. These people had to be Hornfoots. No wonder those Nightrunners wanted to be as far away from those feet as possible! Luckily, the women of the Hornfoot tribe did all seem to be wearing fur boots and whatever was hidden underneath remained a mystery. That was comforting, since Sansa would have to spend time with women, not men.

It was a bit unsettling, being guided by a wildling woman. Osha had been working in Winterfell kitchen for a few years. She was dangerous, though, she’d initially wanted to kidnap Sansa’s brother Bran and so she’d had to wear shackles for a long time as a punishment. Osha herself had grown up speaking the common tongue and her own people were apparently quite different to these tribes. But Osha knew the Old Tongue, two other languages of the wildlings and she was very familiar with their customs. And during the stay with the Starks she’d hopefully learnt to behave, too. She was the best option the Starks had when it came to interpreting the strange languages. The Starks were always very merciful, so even Osha’s shackles had been removed. Sansa was hoping this hadn’t been a mistake. She was still a bit unsure around the woman. Why had Osha wanted to kidnap Bran in the first place? Whenever Sansa wanted to know anything, everyone kept telling her it wasn’t something a maiden should be concerned about. But Sansa was concerned! The wildling woman couldn’t have wanted to kidnap the young boy to make him her husband, so the only other reasonable explanation was that she’d wanted to eat him. That’s what the wildlings did, it was common knowledge. They befriended people, made them feel welcome and then they ate them.

Osha hadn’t made any attempt to eat Sansa yet, and she acted like a fairly civilized person. She smelled nice as well, like a kitchen. Sansa liked Winterfell kitchen, when she was younger she’d often sneaked in to help with baking. She’d been quite good at it, she’d loved creating her own recipes, she’d enjoyed unrestrained conversations with the kitchenmaids. It had been so much fun, her love of cakes had introduced her to the world of commoners and in the kitchen she’d gained so much more respect for them. How could she not like the women who could turn flour into heavenly deliciousness? Before she’d started sneaking into the kitchen, she hadn’t realized how difficult lives some people had, it had taught her more about ordinary lives than Septa Ordane ever could. She still secretly considered it a well-spent time, some of her happiest memories. Mother disapproved, however, ladies should never bake, or spend time in the kitchen, it was beneath them. Sansa was an adult now, so she didn’t misbehave anymore, although she missed the kitchen greatly. She was still very fond of people who smelled of spices and bread. And Osha was also pretty. Like a forest nymph in one of Sansa’s favourite paintings. Osha’s hair was so smooth and glossy, how could it be glossy like that? Sansa was almost starting to think that Osha was quite lovely. But then Osha turned to Sansa and Arya with the worst possible question. “Could you please leave the direwolves here?”

Sansa gave her a tense smile. “Leave them here?”

The woman noticed her unease. “It’s just that people are a bit scared, m’lady. Even Men of the Frozen Shore keep their beasts outside of the settlement, most tribes aren’t used to them here. And your wolves are at least as big as the snow tigers north of the Wall. Women with babies wouldn’t feel safe around them.”

“Of course, it’s not a problem at all,” Sansa assured the woman and apologetically kissed Lady. “We don’t want to make anyone uncomfortable. Even though our direwolves are in no way a threat, Lady loves babies.”

“Eating them?” the widling woman smirked.

“No!” Sansa replied, horrified. How could the woman find the idea funny? Poor Lady, having to hear such slanderous words. Lady loved people. And all the reasonable people loved her, too. Lady had never hurt anyone, quite the opposite, she was the cuddliest little direwolf. And besides, she had very refined tastes. She refused even the food dogs were given in Winterfell, Lady knew exactly what she should eat. And it certainly weren’t babies.

“It’s just that the presence of such beasts is scary to some people,” Osha explained.

“Direwolves aren’t beasts,” Arya grumbled. “They’re our companions.”

“It’s perfectly fine,” Septa Mordane interjected. “Direwolves truly don’t belong among women, it’s not a problem to leave them here.” She was a bit too happy about the idea. Sansa frowned. She didn’t doubt that it was the proper thing to do, she didn’t want people to get scared. But Septa Mordane didn’t understand direwolves at all. Of course, Sansa would leave Lady here, she’d merely wanted to use the opportunity to explain how wonderful direwolves were, she didn’t want the wildlings to misunderstand them. The septa clearly didn’t want the topic to be discussed any further, though.

Sansa and Arya exchanged displeased looks. Septa Mordane was horribly prejudiced against direwolves, but Arya felt the same as Sansa. The girls weren’t used to leaving their direwolves behind, it wasn’t a nice thing to do. Fortunately, Lady wasn’t sad about the great injustice, she understood. She always understood. Sansa could sense her emotions, so she knew well enough that Lady was mostly just curious about her surroundings, she didn’t take any offence at being left behind. She was so sweet! Sansa mission was now clearly not only to civilize the wildlings, but more importantly, she’d spread the love of direwolves, too.

Sansa’s siblings liked to brag about being able to warg into their direwolves and see the world through their eyes, they claimed to have some ridiculous skills. That was all nonsense, of course, it was a particularly silly idea that insulted the Seven. Sansa shared a great bond with Lady, too, but that had nothing to do with warging and some abhorrent wildling magic. Septa Mordane had explained to her that her connection with Lady was just a manifestation of Sansa’s ladylike empathy. That made so much more sense.

Some wildling women looked very tired, despite their kind smiles. And not only that, some had visible injuries. Sansa noticed that one woman had a deep scar on her face, as if something had tried to bite her face off. But there was also a cut, the type of a cut a weapon would create, not an animal. “Did…” Sansa swallowed. “Did some of the women see a battle, too?” she whispered.

“See it?” Osha snorted. “These women all fought in the Battle of the Frozen Shore. Everyone fought, what else could they do? They lost many people there.”

Sansa quietly observed the women, wondering what she could do, or say to make them feel better.

“The one with the silver headdress is called the Bright Owl,” Osha informed the northerners. “She’s the chief of the reindeer herders of the Frozen Shore.”

Sansa noticed the slight movement of the woman’s hands, as if she was expecting something. A hug? Did wildlings hug each other as a greeting? Sansa smiled and moved to the Bright Owl, who immediately lifted her arms. Ah, they did hug! Sansa warmly embraced her and when the woman moved her head, Sansa quickly realized a kiss on the cheek was expected, too. Sansa was quite proud of herself how quickly she was able to adjust to different customs. No bowing, kissing was expected. That was good to know. Arya quickly followed Sansa’s lead.

“She’s called Owl?” Sansa asked quietly, unsure if she understood correctly.

Osha shrugged. “People of the Frozen Shore have queer names like that. But the Bright Owl even saw her husband with the Others, he was their chief before her,” the wildling didn’t even bother to whisper, knowing the women couldn’t understand. “Horrible sight, I can’t imagine.”

Sansa had no idea what the woman was talking about. But she didn’t need to understand to be able to see the people’s pain. She unfortunately couldn’t bring the dead back, but at least she could help her father’s efforts. Perhaps Ned Stark hadn’t been wrong to let the people south of the Wall after all. Father always knew what he was doing, she shouldn’t have been doubting him.

“Tell them we’re happy to have them here, please,” Sansa instructed Osha and she bent down to the little toddler of the scarred mother. The child looked very happy and well-taken care of, even after the long journey they’d taken. And it immediately grabbed Sansa’s necklace, inspecting it with curiosity. The woman quickly blurted something out, probably apologies. Sansa smiled and took the simple necklace off, giving it to the child. It was wonderful how excited the little girl was about the simplest gesture. And the mother would get better work, if she had the necklace and people thought she was connected to the Starks. That always helped them to get the trust of northerners, Bran had said he’d witnessed it many times.

How adorable the girl was! Sansa couldn’t wait to have children of her own. She’d have a dozen children at least and they’d all be so beautiful and kind. People always talked about Sansa’s beauty, some went even as far as to call her the picture of the Maiden herself. They truly did! People kept saying such things, even if she wasn’t one to pay much attention to it. And Joffrey himself was very handsome, he had golden hair and beautiful face. Of course, all their children would be of fair looks and good heart. One of Sansa’s first memories was that of little Arya learning to walk. She’d been the cutest little girl. Sansa imagined her daughter looking exactly like that, too. And Sansa would have children during winter, so all the little princes and princesses would be dressed in colourful warm clothes like this child. Wildlings would be a part of the Seven Kingdoms from now on. Joffrey would be so delighted to incorporate elements of wildling clothing into the royal court, honouring these people and showing support. Sansa looked around. Oh. Where had the others gone? Sansa was left alone with the wildlings, she didn’t understand why Septa Mordane always hurried so much, never giving Sansa enough time with the babies.

Sansa bit her lip. In which directions had Osha lead them? Sansa looked around. She wasn’t even sure where she’d come from! A sense of orientation wasn’t exactly Sansa’s strongest trait, Lady usually helped her with that. All the yurts looked the same, how was she supposed to remember which one she’d already seen? Sansa straightened her back to show how confident she was and she chose her direction. She had no idea if it was the right one, but nobody would see her uncertainty. Her stride was perfectly confident and regal.

But she soon stopped. There was Roose Bolton! He spoke the common tongue, of course, but he was the last person Sansa would ask for help. She certainly trusted the wildlings more than this lord. Lord Roose was talking with a wildling boy, that was worrying, too. A body of a boy had recently been found torn to pieces on Bolton land and Sansa didn’t believe a wild animal was to blame. She wondered whether she should interfere. She was only a maiden, it was not her place to meddle into men’s conversations. Septa Mordane had forbidden her to do such things, explaining how improper it was. Men deserved respect from women, they had bigger brains and they were so much wiser. A good maiden shouldn’t speak up against a lord. And yet Sansa was worried that Lord Roose was perhaps abusing his position. Yes, yes, she wasn’t allowed to say that, but it wouldn’t be the first time for him to be cruel! She’d heard too many horrific stories from his servants about the Bolton family, his son in particular. She’d quietly made sure some girls from Dreadfort got new positions in Winterfell, so they would never have to go back and see another Bolton again. It wasn’t a proper thing to do, so she kept it a secret, of course. But she didn’t regret it, it was the only way she could be sure nothing bad would happen to the girls. Mother kept saying it wasn’t ladylike of Sansa to listen to servants’ gossip. And father didn’t listen to Sansa at all, he never did. He liked talking to Arya, he valued her company. But Sansa was always the pretty one, the good girl that couldn’t possibly have an opinion. At least not an opinion worthy of anybody’s attention. And thus, Lord Roose and his illegitimate son were allowed to continue in their crimes. But what was he doing here? He shouldn’t be allowed to scare the wildlings, they’d suffered enough.

When the Bolton men looked at her, cold chills ran down Sansa’s spine. She knew every each one of them, even if they didn’t realize it. She remembered every description of them that the kitchen maids had given to her, she remembered their crimes, too. As they bowed in a gesture of respect, she knew the respect wasn’t genuine. Lady always hated the Boltons and she understood people better than they did themselves. Sansa didn’t trust the Boltons and their men. They terrified her. But as the Boltons turned their attention to Sansa, the boy was at least finally let go.

When Sansa thought Lord Roose might come over to talk to her, she stepped backwards and bumped into someone. Strong hands grasped her shoulders, steadying her and for a moment she almost thought it was her father.

„Serexteex buol,“ the man behind her rasped. Fear gripped Sansa’s heart, she’d never heard a deeper voice. It didn’t even sound human.

Sansa quickly turned around. “Forgive me!” she quickly blurted out. Only then she realized she was talking to someone’s chest. A huge chest. A wildling chest. The man was wearing clothes in the style of some of the people from the Frozen Shore, but the differences were significant. His clothes was much plainer in colours and decorations, and yet only the best fabric and fur had been used on it. The simplicity of his attire was surprising, given the craftsmanship and precision of every stitch that would be appreciated even at a royal household. But he was wearing some wildling type of armour with only one decoration, an engraved motive of a scary dog in the middle of a round chest plate. Sansa didn’t know if it had any special meaning. It took her only a moment to assess the clothing, it was an instinctive habit of hers. But it took much longer before the оther realization set in, how enormous the figure in front of her truly was. A giant! Sansa had bumped into a giant! Well, perhaps a half-giant. Either way, he was bigger than anyone Sansa had ever met. But not in a good way, he was enormous in the most terrifying way possible. Sansa was quite tall herself, but she barely reached to his heart. The man wasn’t just tall, even with the layers of clothing it was obvious he was muscled like a bull, too. He had a shield, why did he have a shield in the middle of a settlement, when there was no battle going on? And unlike all the other wildlings, he had a sword, too, a normal sword. Well, not normal. It was bigger than father’s Ice, how could any sword be so huge?

Sansa lifted her head and trembled. The man had… well, he didn’t have… His face! Half of his face was missing! It had been burnt off and it had healed horribly, leaving behind the worst scars Sansa had ever seen. Did it hurt very much? Perhaps the maesters could help. The healthy half of the man’s face didn’t seem particularly friendly, either. When she met his grey eyes, his expression grew darker and the man scowled at her. He had a big, hooked nose and furrowed eyebrow, everything about that man was awful and frightening. This is what she’d feared, this man was even worse than her nightmares about the wildling brutes. She’d almost started to believe that wildlings could be normal people, the women and children had been so sweet, but this man right there showed her the truth of it. He looked like the Beast from the Seventh Hell and his voice sounded even worse.

Impolite, impolite. Sansa was staring, she was being impolite! She swallowed and quickly conjured up a smile on her face. “Forgive me, ser,” she peeped. Well, he obviously wasn’t a true knight, he was a savage, but he was clearly a particularly successful swordsman. His cloak was even closed with a pin that the Lord of Winterfell awarded to people for exceptional courage. He was supposed to be wearing it as a brooch on the right side of his chest, not using it as a functional part of clothing. The error didn’t diminish the pin’s meaning, though. Sansa hadn’t even realized her father had started rewarding the wildlings, too. But father had obviously met this beast, and more than that, he respected him. And what should Sansa call a swordsman that deserved father’s highest praise for bravery? Ser it was.

The man only sneered in response. „En kimŋiniy? Manna tugu gınağın?“

Was it just growling, or was it a language? Why was she so angry at her? Sansa was a mere, delicate maiden trying to help savages like him, she didn’t deserve his hatred!

“Forgive me, ser, I don’t understand,” her voice trembled.

He snorted. „En miigin kuttanağın duo?“

“Lady Sansa!” septa’s voice saved her.

“Excuse me,” Sansa gave one more polite smile to the monster and hurried to the good septa that had found her. The Boltons were staring at her and worse, as she walked away, she could feel the giant’s eyes on her, too. He clearly ate girls like her for breakfast.

Fortunately, Sansa was again lead away to the main house of the settlement, where the women prepared some meals for them. The main house of the settlement was quite small, but at least it was indeed a house, not another yurt. Yurts were suspicious, but this house was very nice and welcoming and very, very warm. A bit too warm, perhaps. There were furs all over the place and stunning paintings on leather.

“This is beautiful,” Sansa took in all the depicted mythical creatures and scenes. “How long has it taken to build such a house?”

“Three hours.”

“Oh,” Sansa froze. Three hours? Was this truly a house, or just another yurt in disguise? She looked at the ceiling in suspicion. How could it not collapse? She probably shouldn’t have asked, she’d felt much safer before.

As the women took away the outer layers of clothing, Sansa observed their dresses in astonishment. The women looked nothing like the paintings of savages she’d seen, not only were their dresses full of colours, they were wearing more ornaments than Sansa! She saw many types of headdresses and chest pieces, and even though they were mostly made of carved and painted bark, they had been beautifully made. Sansa should have worn a tiara. The one Queen Cersei had gifted her on her name day, that’s the one she’d wear next time. The wildlings these days weren’t even wild enough. And the future queen shouldn’t be caught wearing less jewellery than a reindeer herder. These people looked so… normal. Well, except that they were all sitting on the floor. If it could even be called a floor.

“Sit down, please,” the wildling woman smiled at the ladies and sat down on the floor as well.

“Gladly,” Septa Mordane smiled. “May we ask for some chairs, please?”

“Chairs?” Osha snorted. “We don’t use such shite. It’s not the most practical thing to carry around when you travel.”

“I see,” Septa Mordane tensed.

Arya nodded. “I like that!” she agreed with the wildling woman and immediately made herself comfortable on the floor as if it was the most natural thing.

The poor septa couldn’t believe her eyes. “Lady Arya…”

Of course, Arya would get into trouble again. She was sitting like a savage, without any care for propriety. Mother hadn’t even stopped talking about Arya’s last transgression and it would start all over again. Sansa quickly sat down next to her. If Sansa was doing the same, septa wouldn’t judge it as impropriety. Everybody knew Sansa never did anything improper. It was simply polite to respect foreign customs, wasn’t it? Sansa smiled at the septa. Mother always said that ladies were not made by their surroundings, but by their own choices and respect for others. And Sansa had just invented the perfect, lady-like position for sitting on the floor. She was sitting on the heels, her knees on the floor, her back perfectly straight. She was sure she looked very elegant and refined. A lady didn’t need a chair to be dignified. And Septa Mordane sighed, joining them on the floor. Arya winked at Sansa, but Sansa merely raised her brow in amusement. She was gracious in her victory.

Sansa’s sister had a peculiar talent for getting into trouble, but it was quite endearing, because her intentions were good. It had taken long time to appreciate that. Nobody had ever said worse things to Sansa than Arya had. And it was probably mutual, Sansa had unfortunately said many shameful things, too. But as they grew older, it became a little easier sometimes to find an agreement. And then father and their older brother Robb left for their horrible journey behind the Wall. And Robb never returned, he and his direwolf died there, in the wilderness, in a fight against some horrible wildling monsters. Even their bodies had been burnt there. The Starks didn’t even get to bury the oldest son of the family. It had been so shocking, so devastating. These days, Sansa couldn’t bring herself to the same anger she’d once felt towards Arya. The world had been changing so much so fast, it was nice to still have Arya by her side. Sansa’s sister wasn’t all that bad, even now she was just being genuinely curious about the wildlings. She was passionate, yes, that was the right word to describe it. She cared about people with passion, surely that couldn’t be bad.

The Thenn women started preparing tea and some even took up interesting music instruments and started singing. It was quite bewitching. The place was so very very warm and welcoming, the scent of boiling tea mixed in the air with something sweet and the foreign song made her smile. Arya was horrified when the women wanted her to sing with them, but Sansa was delighted to find some familiar instruments. She happily joined the women, introducing them to some northern songs and she was delighted to see how much they liked her voice. She loved music. For a moment she thought someone new had entered the house to listen to her song and she saw some women quickly bow their heads in respect, but she was too focused on the love story she was singing about. Arya wasn’t listening, she was looking up with her mouth open. But Arya wasn’t betrothed, she didn’t understand love like Sansa did. The wildling women appreciated the ballad, though, they were enthralled by it. When Sansa finished, she was excited by her success and she turned around to greet the newcomer. But the door was just closing. Well, that was a bit odd. But Sansa smiled at the women and bid them to play her more of their songs. They perhaps didn’t understand each other, but they could sing together anyway.

Every tribe was presenting their traditional meals to their guests and Sansa was very pleasantly surprised by the tea and the delicious savoury pie the Thenns offered her. But then a woman from the Frozen Shore approach them with a big, frozen fish, waving it in front of them. Sansa wasn’t exactly sure what her intentions were.

“This is the favourite meal of people of the Frozen Shore,” Osha announced.

“It’s a frozen fish,” Arya astutely pointed out.

The wildlings didn't have a problem with that. The woman promptly started cutting off thin slices of the fish, filling a wooden plate. Others soon started to do the same. Sansa looked wistfully back at the pretty Thenn pie. It had been so normal!

“You can try it out now,” Osha offered.

“It’s raw fish,” Sansa noted, unless the translator hadn’t noticed.

“Yes, of course.”

Sansa smiled politely. “Of course.” She was starting to have a suspicion the fish might never actually get cooked. There was starting to be a strong possibility that the fish could even be eaten like this. Raw. Frozen. Raw! Some women started to arrange the frozen curls into flowers and ornaments, proudly presenting their work. But even a fish flower didn't seem exactly like Sansa's food of choice. Oh dear, would Sansa have to eat that? When she glanced to her side, she noticed that Septa Mordane herself had the precise expression of a frozen fish. Arya meanwhile took a piece and took a bite, nodding appreciatively, as if she didn’t regret it.

“It’s made out of the best fish,” Osha said to Sansa. Oh. Had Sansa been rude? That wasn’t her intention, she’d been just a bit startled. And a lady should never be startled!

She quickly regained her composure. “It’s very kind of you to share this with us,” she smiled at the wildlings and took a very cold piece into her hand. She let her little finger stick out, hoping it made her eating look more elegant.

“You can dip it into the spices.”

“Thank you,” Sansa politely proceeded as the wildlings did.

Sansa tried to take ladylike nibbles. She’d never been educated about the right manners when it came to eating raw fish shavings, though. They tasted cold, certainly. Sansa focused on maintaining a satisfied smile, she didn’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings. As the food melted in the mouth, the texture became more creamy, the taste very delicate and buttery. Sansa didn’t have to spit out bones, or anything, each bite just melted away in her mouth. Well. That wasn’t too bad. Not bad at all.

“Could you tell the Bright Owl that the food is very good and interesting?”

“No, no, these are from the fishermen tribe,” Osha corrected her.

“Yes?”

“It’s a different tribe.”

“Oh. I see,” Sansa still didn’t understand, she'd thought everyone with this type of clothing was from the Frozen Shore. But it felt impolite to admit it.

“There are three tribes of the Frozen Shore and they don’t always like each other very much,” Osha quickly explained. “The White Bear used to be the chief of the fishermen tribe, the Great Moose of the reindeer herders and the Mountain used to lead the hunters. That’s how it was all my life.”

“Used to be?” Sansa repeated. “The chiefs got replaced?” That was a worrisome idea, rulers should never be replaced! Well, unless they were Targaryens and burnt people alive, of course.

“Well, yes, since all the chiefs died,” Osha snorted.

“Oh.”

“Nothing has been the same ever since. Right before the main battle, the Hound returned to the Frozen Shore and united the tribes. He’s the one who brought the survivors to Mance. The man that stopped by to greet us?” Osha asked as if Sansa was supposed to know who she was talking about. “That’s the Hound.”

“I see.”

“He’s the chief of the hunters now, but he counsels Mance, too. And this is fishermen food. The Great Walrus is their chief, he’s not here today. The Bright Owl is the chief of the reindeer herders, their food is over there,” Osha pointed out. “It’s better not to mistake these three. They’re real cunts sometimes, you know? But now at least they fight by our side.”

“Thank you,” Sansa nodded. “Give my appreciation for the fishermen food, then.” She wasn’t sure she’d ever remember all the odd names, but she was hoping that now at least she was starting to understand some of the differences a bit more. It was clearly important to give the equal attention to all the tribes, they’d worked hard to present their food to the Starks.

“May I?” she looked over to the selection that the Owl’s tribe offered.

“That’s raw reindeer liver. It’s eaten frozen like that.”

This time Sansa did indeed freeze. Was it just her impression, or was the Bright Owl greatly enjoying scaring her with their meals?

“And these are dumplings the women made for you,” Osha translated as the Bright Owl took mercy on Sansa and lifted a wooden lid, showing her another meal.

“Oh, yes, dumplings, thank you!” Sansa quickly used the opportunity and turned her attention to a dish she was more familiar with. Dumplings were good. They looked like dumplings, they tasted like dumplings and there was nothing raw about them. Eating them with a wooden spoon was a bit disturbing, but all things considered, it was a great option. “They are delicious,” she appreciated. And yes, Sansa had been right about the Bright Owl. The woman was unabashedly grinning as if Sansa was being particularly funny.

At the back of her mind, Sansa felt a sudden surge of Lady’s excitement. That was odd. Lady decided to… run? Why would she be running around the small enclosure? Nymeria probably just wanted to play with her, Lady was very tolerant towards her sister’s games.

Sansa rather focused at the food in front of her. It turned out that there were more normal dishes, too. Sansa ended up with a little bowl of sour cream and some strange berries that the Hornfoots prepared for her. And she was a happy woman again, enjoying the sweet taste. Sansa also learnt that the scary people with face paint were called Cave Dwellers and they were particularly fond of raw meats. Fortunately, they also had a dessert made of dried forest fruits. Sweets were saving the day as usual. The wildling women patiently explained to the Starks how various meals were prepared and how they were served, what the meaning was behind the various symbols. This time, it was Sansa who was excited to learn more, not Arya, who'd rather learn more about the battles and scary stories. It was quite astonishing that wildlings even had a cuisine. Who would have guessed? Sansa had assumed they just hunted animals, cooked them over fire in some horrible wilderness and ate them like beasts, without spoons and pots. Sansa looked over at septa, trying to remember her lessons. Wasn’t it what they’d learnt? That wildlings didn’t cook? But these women were instead arguing about how much cheese should go into their favourite meal.

When the meal was over, Sansa was getting a bit concerned about Lady, who was utterly delighted over something. Sansa needed to know more. And before she could explore the wildling settlement further, she let the Bright Owl’s daughter accompany her back to the enclosure where the girls had left their direwolves. Sansa needed to know Lady was safe.

As Sansa approached the enclosure, she already knew something was wrong, it felt as if she was getting further away from Lady, not closer. And sure enough, in the enclosure, there was only one direwolf left. Nymeria. Lady was nowhere to be seen. How had that happened? At least Lady wasn’t in pain, if anything, she was excited. The direwolf was playing with someone, Sansa could recognize that much. A human. Lady was playing with some man, or at least that’s what she thought she was doing. Lady was so naïve, poor wolf! Fear twisted in Sansa’s tummy, as she hurried in the direction where she could sense Lady’s presence. This time Sansa didn’t need to recognize yurts, she always knew in which direction she’d find her wolf. Sansa would be there soon, Lady had to stay safe only a little longer, Sansa would protect her. How had this even happened? The wildlings were so unpredictable, so savage. How could they have stolen Sansa's direwolf?!


	3. Chapter 3

It didn’t take Sansa long to find her wolf, she could always sense where Lady was. Sansa shivered. The half-giant was with Lady, the man that had snarled at Sansa so horribly! Sansa probably shouldn’t have been so rash, leaving the guards with Arya. She wished there was someone to help her against the savage. The man was now chasing Lady! Sansa quickly hurried to her. Nobody would hurt Sansa’s direwolf!

Lady was excitedly running around the man, wagging her tail, producing many happy sounds. She was thrilled about a new game, but this wasn’t like her at all, she was being wild and loud, almost like Nymeria! What had the man done to her? Sansa wanted to run away, too scared of the half-faced beast. But he was scratching poor Lady now. He wasn’t gentle with her at all, what if he’d hurt her? She had such a soft skin. The man was murmuring something awful to Lady. And he hugged her, too! He was hugging Sansa’s direwolf! Lady had the kindest soul, she was excited for now, but she’d get terrified soon, Sansa was sure of it.

The man chuckled and scratched Lady behind her ears. And then he turned around, picking up a branch, the Seven only knew what he was planning. Sansa quickly stepped between the animal and the giant, shielding Lady. “Stop it, please. This is my wolf!”

The man finally noticed Sansa. His eyes widened and he quickly pushed her away from Lady, shielding Sansa from her direwolf for a change, barking something at her. What a beast! He couldn’t treat her like that! Just as could have been expected, Lady immediately took a step forward, growling at the giant, baring her teeth at him. She was still in a good mood, but she wanted the man to know she didn’t tolerate it when people didn’t treat Sansa well. She’d once bitten off a man’s arm, just because he tried to steal Sansa’s necklace. She spat it out, of course, she was such a good wolf. The man finally stopped manhandling Sansa and stared at those two in confusion. He pulled his hand away from Sansa’s shoulder, too. 

That emboldened her. “Lady is mine!” Sansa proclaimed again loudly.

“Mine?” the man scowled. He pointed at Lady. “Wolf,” he knew at least some normal words after all. This particular word was very important, Sansa had to give him that.

“Direwolf, yes, I’ve noticed,” she pursed her lips. 

Lady didn’t appreciate Sansa interrupting the fun. She liked the man, she wanted Sansa to know that, she trusted him. He was nice. And he knew how to play the right games. Besides, the man clearly lived with that big animal that had left the interesting scent at the outskirts of the settlement. He lived with an animal somewhat similar to a direwolf. A dog, but much bigger than any of those Lady had ever met. There were only tiny, boring dogs and small, annoying wolves around Winterfell, Lady had never met anyone close to direwolf other than her siblings. And this animal smelled amazing, Lady was sure he was huge. And young. And virile. She wanted to meet him. Wasn’t it exciting? 

No, it wasn’t. Sansa gave her direwolf a scolding look. They didn’t care about wildling beasts. 

The man meanwhile looked at Lady’s collar and Sansa’s ribbons. He starred at them, his mouth twitching in a particularly unpleasant manner, the confusion in his eyes turning into shock. Ah, at least someone finally noticed Lady's collar. It was pretty, wasn't it? Sansa had embroidered cute little snow buntings on Lady's collar, so it was just like Sansa's ribbons. Lady had the prettiest collection of embroidered collars, she was a very distinguished wolf. Lady yapped at the man playfully, finding the situation very amusing. Sansa didn’t quite share her direwolf’s humour.

“You?” the wildling monster rasped at Sansa. It hadn’t been the language making him sound like that, had it? His voice sounded inhuman on its own. “You wolf?”

“Yes, she’s mine,” Sansa frowned. 

Did the man understand anything at all? He chuckled again, why was he chuckling? This was a very serious situation. Sansa didn’t know what had happened and why he’d dragged Lady here, but nothing was funny about that. Sansa straightened her back, trying to look taller than the tallest man she’d ever seen, preparing to scold him.

“M’lady?” a familiar voice interrupted them. “Are you hurt?”

Sansa turned around, seeing one of the wildling guards. She sighed in relief. She was saved!

The giant scowled at the other wildling, who was dressed in normal clothes, proudly wearing Stark colours. “Biһigini tııtıma!“ the beast snarled.

„No, I won’t leave,“ the guard bravely took out his sword. “Let the lady go!”

The savage looked incredulously at the sword. He blinked. And then he roared with laughter, as if the guard had appeared only for his amusement.

“Let her go!” the wildling guard continued valiantly.

The giant glanced at him, snorted and kicked his sword out of his hand as if it was the simplest thing. He then picked it up and handed the horrible thing to Sansa. “Here girl for dangeris,” he bent down, rasping to her. He shooked his head threateningly to make it clear he disapproved of something. Then he pointed to himself and then to her. “I big… eh... bigsafe give,” he tried to express himself slowly, focusing on articulation of each syllable, speaking more with his hands than words. It was clearly important to him that he was understood. “You next time I go," he was trying to make a sign of her walking to... to him? "I bigsafe you," he finished. How terrifying! What was he even saying? Why was he threatening her with some bigsafe? Sansa was sure it was something wicked, something good maidens shouldn’t know about. A beast like this probably had great many improper thoughts, it was appalling. 

And was Sansa supposed to take the sword with her own hands? She swallowed and nervously took the heavy weapon. She didn’t understand what he expected her to do, but she did prefer the man not to have a sword in his own hands. The guard was still trying to pretend he was protecting her. She’d had the situation under control before the guard had found her, but he was trying to keep her safe so very hard, she couldn’t fault him for his behaviour.

“We will go now,” Sansa announced, trying to act confidently. She turned to her guard, giving him his sword back. The giant didn’t move to stop her. She looked encouragingly at the guard, so that he wouldn’t feel embarrassed. He shouldn’t blame himself, nobody could possibly defeat the muscled giant, even a bear would be scared of him. Sansa smiled at the guard. “Could you please explain to this man that Lady is mine and that he shouldn’t bother her?”

“I can’t do that, m’lady,” the young man frowned. “I’m a Thenn, I don’t speak the Hound’s language and I don’t want to. He speaks only the languages of savages, I barely understand a few sentences.”

Sansa raised her brows. She’d never realized just how much animosity there was between some wildling tribes. She turned to the giant, trying to look at him with all the haughtiness of the future queen.

“Please don’t scare my wolf again. I’ll bid you a good day now,” she articulated clearly, raising her voice, so he’d understand. He was staring at Sansa as if he’d never seen a living person before, but he didn’t say another word. He didn’t even bow to her! She turned away from him and walked away. Lady hesitated only for a moment before she joined her. Sansa was worried what the violent wildling might do, but she didn’t turn to look, she wouldn’t let him know how scared she was. She did feel a bit better with the guard, even if he didn’t seem all that competent. The Starks were often protected only by their wolves, but that clearly wasn't enough among the savages.

“This is the man called the Hound?” Sansa turned to the guard. She'd heard that name from Osha already. “You don’t like him, do you?”

“No, I don’t. Forgive me, m’lady, but I don’t think Mance was right to give the Hound control over the settlement. As you’ve seen, the Hound doesn’t even speak the languages of any civilized people.”

“Ah, the Hound is a chief,” Sansa remembered something Osha had told her.

“Yes! Unfortunately. Your father shouldn’t trust the Hound, m’lady, the man is a monster. His brother brutally killed and raped anything that walked. And the Hound has killed three Thenns only yesterday! And some cave dwellers, too, but they probably deserved it, they’re horrible. There was no reason to kill Thenns, however!”

It wasn’t too surprising to Sansa, she’d seen the Hound and the way he acted. He wouldn’t hesitate to devour her, he’d looked at her with such a scary glint in his eyes.

“Why has he done that?”

“I don’t know,” the guard shrugged. “But when do the Men of the Frozen Fields ever need a reason? They’re worse than the animals whose names they use. The Hound is the worst of them. It’s not right for him to have the power here, you should tell your father how he’s behaving, m’lady. There are great Thenns that are much better suited for such esteemed role. My brother, for example. He’s bent the knee to your father, unlike the Hound. My brother would be great, he knows three languages, he knows how to behave properly. You should tell your father.”

Sansa sighed. She doubted her father would listen, he’d once again say she was being too sensitive. The Hound had stolen her direwolf, though, she couldn’t be sensitive enough about that! And how horrible he’d been, disarming the good guard. The sweet man lead her through the settlement back to Arya. Sansa was glad she had him there, the yurts looked all the same to her, it was confusing and Lady wasn't being cooperative at all.

“Where have you been?” Arya rushed to Sansa the moment she saw her. “Are you hurt?”

“No, I am not. But someone tried to steal Lady!”

“Have they attacked you, m’lady?” Osha frowned. "The cave dwellers?"

“Seven hells,” Arya cursed and septa didn’t even scold her this time. “Has Lady torn them apart?”

“Are you harmed, Lady Sansa?” Septa Mordane was very worried, too.

“It was that horrible giant. The Hound tried to steal my direwolf!” Sansa complained.

“The Hound?” Osha looked at her in disbelief. “You mean the chief? That Hound?”

“Yes, he dragged Lady out of the enclosure.”

“I don’t think he wanted to steal her, m’lady.”

“Of course, he did, I saw him!” Sansa didn't like her word being doubted.

“I myself have also witnessed him threatening Lady Sansa,” the guard supported Sansa.

“Oh, have you, Manric?” Osha snorted. “And do you by any chance want your brother to replace him?”

“That has nothing to do with anything,” the wildling argued with the wildling.

Osha shook her head. “The Hound just likes animals, m’lady. He gets along with them much better than with people, that’s for sure.”

“Then he should buy one and not steal mine!”

“But he already has a furry monster of his own, bigger than yours, m’lady," Osha assured her. "Besides, he’s Mance’s most trusted man, responsible for this entire settlement. Mance knows whom to trust.”

“That doesn’t give the Hound right to steal anyone’s direwolf.”

“That’s what I’m saying, m’lady, the Hound doesn’t steal,” Osha simply couldn’t agree with Sansa for once. “He’s more feared than liked, even by his people, but he’s well respected. I told you, the tribes of the Frozen Shore can be cunts, but he’s the one who forbade raids and stealing and raping. He punishes those things. This is the safest settlement because of him.”

Sansa didn’t care about wildling disagreements, she only wanted to understand the man’s motive. She needed to be able to prevent further incidents. “Don’t people of the Frozen Shore use dogs for sledges?” Sansa asked, horrified by the idea. She disapproved of such things. Sansa’s little brothers had once tried using their direwolves like that. But Lady had always found the idea of wolf sledges supremely offensive and Lady had all the right opinions.

“Many tribes do that,” Osha shrugged. “Look, m’lady, I’m not fond of the man, either, but I think he just loves anything that barks.”

“Lady doesn’t bark,” Sansa retorted. “And I would appreciate it if the man left my direwolf alone, no matter whether you call it stealing, or not.”

“And what if she’d search him out herself? I saw the enclosure when we were looking for you. It wasn’t open, it looked very much like she’d jumped out of it herself,” Osha suggested impertinently. “The Hound is a killer, not a thief.” 

How very comforting. “I do not know what his intentions were, but Lady could have suffered a great shock because of his behaviour,” Sansa maintained. “She’s very delicate.”

“Delicate?” the wildling raised her brows. “Have you seen her teeth?”

“Of course, I clean them myself.”

“You clean…” Osha blinked and shook her head, refraining from any further comments.

Sansa got to hug a few children and play their adorable games. Just as she'd expected, they weren't scared of Lady at all. Septa had thought Sansa had got lost, so now that she was back, she didn't even protest against Lady staying by her side and neither did Osha. Children loved Lady, they happily brushed her back. But Sansa was almost glad when it was time for to ride back to Winterfell. She was getting increasingly worried about her direwolf. Something odd was happening with Lady. Even as they were riding home, there was the hum of Lady’s excitement at the back of her mind. Lady was still delighted she’d found a great friend, she was so naïve, poor wolf. The Hound probably ate direwolves, too.

Arya meanwhile tried to pry more information out of Osha. “I thought I understood the wedding customs of the people in the Frozen Shore, I even explained it to Sansa, but what was it with the names?” Sansa hoped Arya hadn't got into trouble while Sansa had been away. Had she offended the wildlings?

“Ah, yes, that's not a wedding tradition, though," Osha snorted. "I was just warning you not to introduce yourself like that.”

“Why? Starks are a great family, it’s a proud name,” Arya replied with a bit of annoyance.

“That’s true, but people of the Frozen Shore don’t think in those terms. They use animal names, for everyone, including foreigners, it's polite. They themselves have other names, too, not just the animal ones, but you'll never know those. It's very intimate for them. They use their personal names only within families, or with their lovers."

"I'm not a member of the Free Folk, however," Arya argued.

"That doesn't matter to them. Once a hunter from the Frozen Shore nearly killed a member of my tribe, just because my friend overheard the hunter's wife's name and he repeated it. Why should that be offensive? They're just arseholes," Osha shrugged. "That’s why that woman shook her head, when you introduced yourself by your name directly like that. To the people of the Frozen Shore it’s simply an indecent proposition, as your brother calls it.”

“Indecent proposition?”

“That’s right,” Osha nodded. “The woman thought you wanted to shag.”

Sansa nearly fell off her horse. She hadn’t been paying attention to Arya and Osha’s conversation, but some shocking word took her out of her thoughts about direwolves. “Osha!” she hissed. “The septa will hear you.”

Arya didn’t worry about that at all, she had other concerns. “The woman thought… what?” she gasped, thinking about it for a moment. “Hey, she rejected me? Why has she rejected me? She didn’t even give me a chance!”

Osha shrugged. “That’s why I introduce you to them as the Red Wolf and the Smart Wolf. Better keep it that way, no names with the people of the Frozen Shore. They’re a bit difficult in this regard, they judge the whole world though their own crazy rules and then they keep getting into senseless conflicts, whenever someone offends their precious sensibilities.”

“And I’m the Smart Wolf?” Arya smiled. “Sansa, did you hear that?”

“Yes, very interesting,” Sansa nodded, all the while focusing on her disagreement with Lady. As close as they were now, Sansa could feel all Lady's emotions very clearly, Lady was trying to share her happiness and make sure they'd return to the settlement. It was astonishing how much the Hound had bewitched Sansa’s direwolf. Lady kept thinking about the encounter, looking forward to meeting the Hound’s huge beast. Why did she care so much about how nice the animal smelled, anyway? She wasn’t like the uncivilized wolves of the forest, Lady shouldn’t care about such things. 

When they got home, Sansa’s mood was greatly improved, however. A messenger from Joffrey had arrived. Exactly at the same time as Sansa! The timing was of course a sign from the Seven. Joffrey and Sansa were always perfectly attuned to each other, even with the distance between them. Joffrey loved Sansa so very much. Sansa had been feeling down and the first thing that happened was for her to get a letter from Joffrey to cheer her up! Joffrey was so thoughtful, he always knew what to do.

Joffrey had the best messengers, too. This one was new and he was very handsome and graceful. His clothing was beautiful, such rich fabrics could never be found in the North. He didn’t waste a moment and he kneeled in front of Sansa as soon as he got off his horse, that’s how chivalrous southerners were! Lady turned her head towards him, inspecting the sight in front of her. The man’s horse was scared, or in pain and there was something wrong about the man’s gestures. There was nothing honest about them, it was as if he was acting. Lady didn’t like that, she hated pretence. 

Sansa shook her head. Why was Lady inserting herself into Sansa's mind today so much? They almost never needed to do that, they always understood each other without oversharing. And why was Lady being so judgemental? The messenger had such a comely face, he was only being polite. He had amazing manners. But when he smiled, Lady wrinkled her nose at him. No, Lady didn’t trust this man. Not at all. Ugly man, bad man. Yuck, yuck.

Oh. Sansa stopped, her own smile freezing a little. Well, Lady perhaps had a point about the horse… 

“Please take care of our guest’s horse,” Sansa bid a stable boy. The stablemaster would know how to help the animal. 

Sansa took the letter from Joffrey, thanking the comely messenger, but leaving him so that she could read the letter in private. Once again, Joffrey had used the most expensive paper and the letter smelled of a heavy perfume. Joffrey truly was perfect. Sansa’s prince. Her future husband. The father of her children. He always made her feel better.

Lady followed Sansa, making sure the messenger stayed far away from them. Lady didn’t understand why they couldn’t have stayed in the nice settlement, making friends with big animals and eating raw fish. She didn’t care about Sansa’s stinky letter, she was far too excited about the prospect of meeting the big dog of that nice, big human. The man had been great fun and there had been nothing false about him. They should go back, Winterfell was boring.

Sansa let the direwolf go in her chamber first, watching Lady proudly sway her hips and wag her tail in a particularly provocative manner. Sansa was astonished by her wolf’s behaviour. She wasn’t recognising Lady today at all! Sansa didn’t know what was wrong, but she knew it was all the Hound’s fault, he’d put some wildling curse on her. Sansa would be dining with her parents tonight, they'd talk about the settlement. Perhaps she could bring up the Hound's behaviour? Surely she could convince father to help people of the settlement and get rid of the horrible Hound!


	4. Chapter 4

Sansa looked remarkably beautiful today! Well, people always said that about her, but Sansa didn’t focus on such things. Now, however, after reading Joffrey’s letter, even she was she astonished by the beauty she saw in the mirror. She was glowing with love and happiness! Joffrey’s letters were always like a ray of southern sunshine, so very precious in the glum, cold north. Joffrey’s sweetness could cure sickness, Sansa was sure of it. Nobody knew how to love like he did. He was a true prince, Seven Kingdoms were so fortunate to have him. Sansa spent the rest of the day writing him a letter, too. Two letters. Well, perhaps she’d written him three letters, but that could be expected of any good bride. 

Sansa pushed Bran’s wheelchair, but her younger brother didn’t ask about Joffrey’s letter at all, instead he had other, much less pleasing things to say. “I saw Lady this morning, before the dawn.”

“She’s right in front of you, Bran."

“That’s not what I’m talking about,” the boy chuckled. “I saw her by the kitchen.”

“What about it?”

“You were warging into her, weren’t you?”

“Bran! How can you say that!” Sansa scolded him. “You know these ideas are very offensive to the Seven, there is no such thing as warging!”

“Are you telling me that Lady was eyeing hazelnut cakes all by herself?” Bran asked slyly.

“Why not? She is allowed to have varied tastes.”

Bran laughed at her, not even making any pretence about it. He was laughing at his older sister! “Why don’t you just admit it? We can all warg into our wolves, Sansa, we all know it, why don’t you want to talk about our skills? Perhaps we can learn something from each other! We don’t need to tell anything to parents, or septa, it’s our secret.”

“I’m not going to listen to such blasphemy, Bran, you should pray very hard tonight for saying such things!” Sansa couldn’t warg. Even if warging existed, it was a wildling skill, something based on their horrible, dark magic, septa had said so. Sansa on the other hand… Never! Of course, she couldn’t possibly warg. She was the purest maiden, a good girl, she prayed so very much. She only had a strong emotional bond with her wolf, septa had confirmed it. Sansa was a lady. The future queen. She didn’t have some wicked, wildling skills, everything about Sansa was good and proper. 

But nobody appreciated it today. “I am very displeased with your conduct at the settlement today,” mother told her instead of wishing her good evening.

“Mother?” Sansa gasped, sitting down for dinner. “Everyone was very happy to see us!”

“First of all, I thought we agreed you two were always to stay with your wolves!” Lady Catelyn wasn’t in a good mood at all. “Guards can be easily overpowered, or bought, but you can’t buy direwolf’s loyalty. Summer has saved Bran twice and when Rickon broke his leg, Shaggydog brought him home. Your wolves, too, have protected you many times, when guards failed to do so. Arya would have died in some dark forest long ago, if it wasn’t for Nymeria! I think I have been clear enough about you always having your wolves around! Is that so much to ask?” Mother’s opinions have greatly changed over the years. She loved the wolves now, didn’t she? 

“Septa Mordane made us leave them in the enclosure. We didn’t want to, mother,” Arya pointed out. “We were just obeying her orders as you wanted.” Arya could never miss an opportunity to criticize Septa Mordane, could she? She was such a child.

“That is not true!” Sansa protested. “Some wildling women are scared of big animals, they have experiences of being attacked by wild creatures. Osha asked us to leave the wolves outside, so that we wouldn’t scare anyone. Septa Mordane only wanted us to be respectful.”

“Yes, that is my other point,” mother nodded. “We hoped Osha would be a suitable company for you, we hoped she could help the wildlings feel more at ease with you, so that it doesn’t end up like all the formal encounters, where everybody is too scared to talk about their problems. But we were obviously mistaken. Osha will not accompany you again. From what I’ve heard, she was behaving appallingly. She is not suited for the company of ladies.”

“But mother, she was great help!”

“Obviously not, if she made you leave your wolves behind. And she was very crude, Sansa, don’t think I don’t know about that!”

“She was blunt,” Sansa corrected. “Which is helpful in such environment. We do need someone there to help us understand the people, we can’t help them without it.”

“Yes, and Septa Mordane thankfully recommended us another septa who could help with that. She does have some knowledge of the wildling languages, she’s spent the past two months helping those people.”

“But…”

“That was not a question, Sansa. Next time, you will go with two septas and two guards, who will be instructed not to let the direwolves be separated from you.”

Sansa raised her brow. Once upon a time, Lady Catelyn had been against her children having direwolves. Now guards were used to make sure the girls did have direwolves with them, wasn’t it adorable? Catelyn trusted the wolves more than any guards. If Lady were to ever have puppies, mother would get one, too. And Lady did badly want puppies, lately she’d been adopting Sansa’s stockings, acting as if they were her children. 

“I was told the Hound found you when you got lost,” father remembered.

That wasn’t how Sansa would have described her experience. “He was very rude. And he killed some Thenn men yesterday, father!”

“I know, he executed six people, mostly for… eh… violence against women. It was nice to see such a fair trial, I wish other settlements were this efficient with justice.”

Oh. It had been an execution? “And he took a stick on Lady,” Sansa added to the accusations.

Father chuckled. “Ah, yes, that does sound like him. The Hound always plays with animals,” father nodded. Was there nothing the Hound could do that would disturb father? “Even when others were enjoying themselves after a battle, he was rather taking care of that beast of his. I bet he must have been thrilled to see direwolves. He loved Grey Wind.”

At the mention of her brother’s wolf, Sansa felt a pang at her heart. She looked down on her hands. Had she misjudged the giant? Perhaps it had been fond memories of her brother that had made him react improperly when he saw Lady. Perhaps he’d only wanted to welcome Grey Wind’s sisters. She’d already noticed that he wore a pin from her father, she should have thought of that. And it was nice to hear Ned Stark talk about his time behind the Wall for once. He never wanted to talk about what he’d seen there, what had happened.

“Did you fight side by side with the Hound?” Sansa asked, for once ignoring her mother’s displeased expression. This wasn’t a topic Lady Catelyn ever wanted to discuss.

“Yes, thankfully. Hornfoots and the Men of the Frozen Shore long ignored the war, the threat seemed to be far enough and they didn’t want to have anything to do with it. When they appeared in the third battle, joining our fight, it was as if the Old Gods had sent them to save us at the last moment. And at Hardhome, the Hound carried me to safety when I was injured.”

Sansa could easily believe that, she’d never seen anyone as big and muscled as the Hound. He could probably carry the weight of heavens on his shoulders and find it relaxing. “I’m glad for that, I can’t imagine you staying behind,” she whispered.

“I certainly wouldn’t have stayed there,” father said grimly and mother gave him a scolding look, stopping him from speaking further. Sansa didn’t understand. She was old enough and very mature. She wasn’t like Arya, who wasn’t even betrothed, Sansa was a maiden of ten-and-six, in two years she’d be a mother of the future king. Why couldn’t she be told more? What exactly had happened behind the Wall, anyway? 

Mother tried to change the topic. “What has Joffrey talked about in his letter?”

“Oh, he told me all about his great successes and bravery. He misses me,” Sansa smiled shyly.

“He won’t have to miss you for long,” father told her.

“What do you mean?”

“A raven came today. The letter must have been sent after Joffrey wrote to you. The king has agreed to join our fight against the evil behind the Wall. He agreed very… very enthusiastically. King Robert is probably the only man in Westeros who is thrilled at the prospect of a coming war. His armies are riding north as we speak. Joffrey will fight, too, Robert wants him to harden in a battle, become a man.”

“Joffrey is coming?” Sansa’s face lit up. She was sure he’d be amazing in a battle. He was so pretty, he often sent her paintings depicting him in shining armour. He looked like a true knight, the greatest knight of all, of course he’d win any battle, Sansa didn’t doubt it. He was coming!

Sansa wasn’t able to pay attention to much after receiving such news. Joffrey was coming. Her Joffrey. Her prince! She needed to do so much to be ready. There were countless things she needed to embroider, she needed to make sure his chamber would be ready for him, only she knew all about his great tastes. And… well, perhaps he’d want to marry her right away! That’s what men did at the times of war, wasn’t it? They quickly married, made their wives heavy with children and rode off into their terrible wars. Oh, perhaps Sansa would be married very soon!

Late at night, Sansa lay in her bed, imagining her wedding. It would be a proper wedding, in a sept, not in godswood. Sansa would wear a crown and a heavily embroidered dress. Joffrey would kiss her, wouldn’t he? His soft, pretty lips against hers… Sansa kissed her hand, imagining her prince kissing her. He had such pretty lips. Not like the Hound, the Hound had horrible lips, half-burnt. And he looked so rough, kissing the Hound would be awful, he’d try to devour her instead of kissing her chastely, his embrace alone could crush her. Kissing Joffrey would be… it would be... not that. 

Sansa dreamt of being Lady at night. Lady was wandering around the forest, thinking of going back to Winterfell. The guards would let her in, they always did, and it was easy for her to open the door to Sansa’s chambers, it was made for that. She should go and join Sansa, have some rest. But then Lady heard it. A howl. An unusual howl, this wasn’t a wolf, or a dog. It wasn’t any of her sibling, either. And yet… Well, this was interesting. Lady howled back and looked excitedly around, wondering what would happen. She could hear an animal getting closer. And closer. And then a familiar scent hit her nostrils.

Ha! An enormous black beast walked out of the bushes, staring straight at her. He was the size of a horse, but other than that he looked like a dog. A very furry dog. He truly was bigger than Lady, just as she'd expected. How marvellous! Lady wagged her tail, elated to finally meet the hound she’d scented at the settlement. He’d been following her scent, hadn’t he? He appreciated her clever peeing strategy. Lady had marked the entire way from the settlement to Winterfelf and she was now quite proud of herself. It had worked! And the dog liked her, of course he did. This was so exciting! Lady gladly let the dog sniff at her behind.

Sansa was mortified by Lady’s behaviour. The beast was pretty, she had to give her that, and he was very friendly towards her, being obviously delighted to have found her. He seemed unruly, though, running around Lady happily. Lady meanwhile maintained decorum. She thought he was much younger than her and Sansa trusted her judgement on that. Perhaps he just wasn’t mature enough. It was a majestical beast, just like direwolves. A diredog? Was there such a thing? Lady was sure he wouldn’t hurt her. They liked each other, which was quite heart-warming to see. Lady had long hoped for company of other animals beside her siblings. And Sansa wished she could scratch the beast’s belly, he was cute. It would be like playing with a bear. And who didn’t dream of rubbing a bear’s belly?

The two of them played for a long time, before the dog started leading Lady away, back to the settlement. Lady uncertainly glanced back at Winterfell. She didn’t usually go so far away at night, leave Sansa unprotected. But Sansa made it clear she didn’t object to Lady having some fun. Sansa always loved their secret nightly trips and Lady deserved to spend a nice time with her new friend. Sansa was interested to know more about the animal herself.

The settlement was indeed far away, but Sansa enjoyed observing the dog almost as much as Lady did. It was comforting to know there were other creatures like that and the Stark direwolves weren’t the last of their giant kind after all. Why had the wildlings kept it a secret from Sansa?! 

The settlement looked beautiful under the moonlight, with the stars shining above their heads and reflecting off the snow. The dog however stayed at the outskirts, walking towards a big campfire, where about a dozen people were seated, cooking their meal, listening to a standing septon. Sansa was now wiser to the ways of the wildling and she recognized immediately that these people were all from the Frozen Shore. Hunters. Hunters of the Frozen Shore. And among them was also an unmistakable figure. A giant figure. The Hound.

“This is a book,” the septon held up a book. “That is a stone,” he pointed at the stone. “Now repeat after me. This is a book,” he turned to a wilding.

“This is a book,” a wildling woman repeated.

“This is a book,” the septon nodded and pointed at another wildling.

“This is a book,” an old man said in a bored tone.

The septon turned to the Hound. “This is a book.”

The Hound only sniggered.

“Please repeat after me,” the septon bid him. “This is a book.”

“No, this is shite,” the Hound stated and stood up, walking away from the campfire.

The moment he saw his dog, however, he smiled widely, immediately hugging the beast, murmuring something to him. Well, that was sweet. He wasn’t as gentle as Sansa was towards Lady, but he behaved similarly with his dog as Sansa’s siblings did with their wolves. When he noticed Lady, he froze in the spot. “Lady?” he asked. Ah, so he had indeed noticed the name! He looked behind Lady, scowling.

“Girl?” he called out. “Girl?”

Lady happily woofed at him, wagging her tail. He was looking for Sansa and Lady fully approved. She liked people who cared about Sansa’s safety. 

“Where…” he turned to Lady, but then he started searching for Sansa on his own. He looked in his yurt, behind a pile of wood, into an old tree.

Very well, Lady did like people caring about Sansa’s safety, but he was overdoing it a little, looking around the settlement as if he expected Sansa to be hiding under every stone. It was quite excessive. He seemed disappointed, when he didn’t find Sansa and Lady was getting bored. 

She lay down on the ground, rolling over, making it obvious there was no reason to worry. And the man understood, finally stopping his search for Sansa. The Seven only knew what he’d to if he had found Sansa, anyway. The Hound shook his head, bending down to rub Lady’s belly. 

“Onu oҥoror kıağıҥ suoh,“ he admonished Lady. Lady could tell he disapproved of her behaviour. “Girl… not safe,” he grumbled. 

Another, much younger septon meanwhile approached the Hound.

“Ah, so you have two?” the man smiled. “Pretty dogs.” He wasn’t being honest with his words, Lady could sense that well enough.

Hound narrowed his eyes at him, but didn’t respond.

“What are their names?” the septon asked.

The Hound raised his brow as if he didn’t understand even the simple sentence.

“The dog. Name? Dog name. Your dog name,” septon tried to explain.

“Stranger.”

He said that in Sansa’s language. Stranger! He couldn’t possibly mean that it was the name of the beast? 

The septon was mortified himself. “That is an… interesting name.”

“Death god,” the Hound smiled wickedly. “I know. I like. Death good friend is.”

The septon sighed, but then he nodded and sat down next to the giant. “You’ve made a progress in your speaking, Hound. Have you been studying on your own?”

“What studying?” the Hound sneered. “‘This is a book’, ‘That is fire’, ‘May the Seven have mercy upon your soul’, “Seven blessings”? That what studying is?”

“Those are useful phrases. You need to learn about the Seven and seek redemption for your sins.”

“Bugger redem… redemoshon,” he wasn’t sure how to pronounce one of the most important words. “I want my thing translate.”

“You want me to translate something? I’m not sure if I understand enough of your language, but I can try.”

“What?” the Hound growled, scowling furiously.

“What do you want to translate?” septon articulated clearly.

The Hound looked at something in his hand. Lady recognized it before Sansa did, knowing immediately it was Sansa’s ribbon. Oh no, did he have any idea how long it took to embroider all those snow buntings? First, he’d tried to steal her direwolf, now he was stealing her ribbons, was there no end to his horribleness? Where had he got it? And now the Hound was asking something in his horrible language.

“Little bird,” the septon translated.

“Little bird?” the Hound smiled. His smile was even scarier than his scowl. “Little bird. Pretty name,” he touched the ribbon. “Little bird.”

“Yes, well, we wouldn’t use it as a name, but… why not. What was the other thing?”

„Kuttanıma,“ the Hound rasped.

“Don’t be afraid,” the septon translated.

“Don’t be afraid,” the Hound repeated. “Don’t be I afraid.”

“No, no, you could say: ‘Don’t be afraid of me’.”

“Don’t be afraid of me?” the Hound tried the new phrase. “Don’t be afraid of me, little bird.”

“Very good! And see? You now take other people’s feelings into consideration, too! The Seven have had great influence on you!”

“I don’t understand you,” the Hound growled. “And I don’t give a damn. Next translate.”

The septon sighed. “And what was the other one?”

“Min eyigin kömüsküöm.“

“I’ll keep you safe,” septon translated.

“I’ll keep you bigsafe.”

“No, just safe,” the bald man corrected.

“Why?” the Hound rasped. “Safe not enough here is. Bigsafe.”

“Well, it doesn’t work that way. I guess you could say ‘I’ll keep you very safe’.”

“Very safe? I’ll keep you very safe, little bird,” the Hound tried the sound of it.

“Great. See? You have a very good ear and memory, you’ll learn fast, I’m sure! Who is that woman?”

“Woman?” the Hound frowned. “Little bird.”

“From which tribe is she?”

The Hound snorted. “No, no. Little bird sing person is. Small,” he made a gesture with his hands as if he was talking about a thumb-sized woman. Oh. Sansa had almost thought he was talking about her, judging from the ribbon, but nobody would ever call her small. “Not safe. Very not safe.”

“She is a singer? Not from the Free Folk?”

“No, in castle. Winterfell. Singer.”

What? There were no singers in Winterfell, unfortunately. Father didn’t support arts as much as Joffrey did, it always saddened Sansa a little. Sansa and her friends usually did the singing. What was the wildling talking about?

“In the castle.”

The Hound’s blissful expression disappeared. “What?” he barked.

“She works in the castle as a singer.”

“You Little Bird know?” the Hound narrowed his eyes at him.

“No, I don’t know anybody in the castle,” the septon said with slight bitterness. “I’m just correcting your sentence. It was incomplete.”

The Hound looked at the septon as if he'd said the stupidest thing.

“Well…” the good man cleared his throat, smiling at the Hound uncertainly. “What’s important is that when you visit Winterfell to talk to Lord Stark… eh... Big Wolf? Is that what savages call him? You cannot make conversation with a common singer, it wouldn’t be proper. You are representing the Free Folk, you need to behave like a lord now, or they’ll think lowly of you.”

“I don’t understand you and I don’t give a damn,” the Hound repeated.

“The singer,” septon raised his voice as if it would help. “Talking to her is not important, she can entertain you at night, in private.”

The Hound’s mouth twitched and a horrible, enraged glint appeared in his eyes. What if he’d try to strangle a septon? Should Lady interfere?

“You need to practise the sentences from yesterday,” the septon hadn’t noticed the change in the man’s moon. “You’ll need them when you’re in Winterfell. Remember, you’ll be speaking with the Warden of the North himself!”

“In Winterfell I speak with singer himself. Little Bird not safe, I keep she very safe.”

“You’re not going there to speak with a singer in public.”

“Why?”

“Well… Lord Stark has invited you, which is an unbelievable honour for a wildling. For… for anyone!” the septon had suddenly stopped speaking about Free Folk, too upset for some reason. Sansa was sure that father wouldn’t mind in the slightest if the Hound decided to speak to any of the people in Winterfell. Or horses, or dogs. Even a non-existent singer, who cared?

The Hound looked mockingly at the septon. The giant didn’t even have to speak to make it clear what he thought. Good, Winterfell was the place of last refuge for all northerners, no matter whether they were beggars, or lords. Nobody should be afraid of visiting the place.

Septon got even angrier, though. “Do you have any idea how many people wish they’d be invited? And they never are, not once in their entire lifetime! No matter how hard they study, or how honourable lives they live, Lord Stark doesn’t care about their existence! And meanwhile you, you get the honour of being personally invited!” septon shook his head. “You! It’s your duty to make the best impression on the lord!” he said passionately. “You should behave properly and mention the people who have taught you so much. You can’t ruin it by speaking with some commoners! Do you understand? You will speak only to people that the Starks introduce to you, nobody else.”

Lady sat down, cocking her head, observing the septon with curiosity. Lady thought he was funny, Sansa thought he was quite odd. What was wrong with speaking to singers? Sansa loved talking to all the artists, whenever they were occasionally visiting Winterfell. Septa never had a problem with that, it wasn’t sinful!

“I speak with Little Bird,” the Hound growled. “Sııһanı oҥordo.“

„Mistake? What mistake? What does it matter if a singer makes some mistakes?"

„She not safe. Important.” 

“And what will Lord Stark think of you?”

“I don’t give a rat’s arse,” the giant grumbled. There was a clear difference between sentences he was himself trying to create and the sentences he’d obviously learnt as set phrases. Now he sounded suspiciously like uncle Brynden, he was even suddenly speaking with a Riverrun accent, while before he sounded more like a Northerner. Why wasn’t that surprising to Sansa? Honestly, out of all the things Blackfish could have taught the wildlings…

“I speak with Little Bird,” the Hound stood up, ending the conversation altogether.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Orthodox Christmas to everyone celebrating!


	5. Chapter 5

Father was holding yet another audience for the wildlings, this time there was even a real giant among the guest. Sansa didn’t get to see him however. Just as usual, the girls were not allowed to leave the tower while the wildlings were visiting. Sansa wasn't very happy about that. Father wanted the girls to talk only to the women and orphans in the settlement and Sansa was a good maiden, she understood. Like like this they however never even got to see any of the great wildling warriors. It wasn't fair. Why was father so secretive about the war, anyway? Sansa wasn't a child, shouldn't she know what evil forces were coming to attack the north? Septa had to leave the room to look for Arya, who’d disappeared as usual. But as soon as the door closed, Jeyne distractedly took something out of her pouch, smiling at it happily, before hiding it under her skirt again, trying to look all innocent.

“Well?” Sansa couldn't stay quiet anymore.

“Yes?” Jeyne turned to her.

“It’s been at least three weeks, probably more.”

“What do you mean, Sansa?” Jeyne looked surprised.

“Don’t you think it’s time to tell me something?” Sansa asked gently.

“Well…” Jeyne bit her lip. “I might have something tell you.”

“What a surprise,” Sansa commented.

“No, Sansa, this is serious. And I know we tell each other everything, but this is important for me and I…” she hesitated. “I’m not sure you’re going to agree with me.”

“Try me.”

Jeyne cleared her throat. “I… I have met a man, Sansa.”

And only a blind, deaf dimwit wouldn’t know that. “Indeed?”

“And he’s been very sweet to me.”

“He has?”

“And he’s clever. Very clever. And capable.”

“He is?”

“He says he loves me.”

“But?” Sansa added.

Jeyne bit her lip. “What do you mean?”

“We’ve established he’s a brilliant man. But?”

“He’s a wonderful man, Sansa, truly!” Jeyne quickly assured her. “Agvan loves me so much. He is… He is…”

“He is a wildling,” Sansa realized. No reasonable northerner would have such a name.

Jeyne squirmed nervously. “A Thenn.”

“A wildling.”

“Thenns are not truly wild, Sansa!” Jeyne assured her. “He says they’re not savages at all. Cave Dwellers, Nightrunners, Men of the Frozen Shore, those are savages, but Thenns… Thenns are amazing.”

“Says the Thenn.”

“Sansa, please, please, I truly need you to give him chance!” Jeyne begged.

“What about your father?”

“Please, Sansa. If you like Agvan, I’m sure you can convince anyone to like him, too. Your opinion is all that matters!”

Well… if she said it like that… Sansa smiled against her own will. Jeyne did have a point, Sansa could judge people very well, her opinion was indeed important.

“What does he do for a living?”

“Oh, he is very important, Sansa! He was the one sent to Dragonstone for the dragonglass, dealing with Lord Stannis and the king himself! And when the supplies arrived, he was here all the time, in Winterfell. Remember? He’s the handsome one.”

“And now?”

“Now he’s in the third settlement again," Jeyne was now even using the same names for the settlements as the wildlings did. Jeyne was the steward's daughter, she should be putting more importance into the proximity of a castle, not into the order, in which each settlement was built! It was the Winterfell Settlement, she wasn't a wildling to be calling it anything else! "I sometimes dress as a septa and sneak out to see him.”

“What?” Sansa gasped. “Jeyne! You can’t possibly…”

“We haven’t done anything improper,” Jeyne pouted, as if wearing robes of a septa wasn’t improper at all.

“Has he kissed you?”

“He has but there's nothing wrong with that, we’re betrothed!” Jeyne blurted out.

“Jeyne!” Sansa was horrified.

“And he has never kissed me bellow here,” she pointed to her chest. "Agvan says you can't even get heavy with a child from that!"

Sansa closed her eyes, hiding her face into her hands. This wasn’t happening. It was only a dream and Sansa would wake up and none of it would be true. Jeyne couldn’t be serious. Betrothed! To a wildling! Letting him kiss her, letting him… A wildling!

“Please, Sansa, please, you have to come with me,” Jeyne pleaded. “It’s so easy to sneak out when you’re dressed as a septa, there are so many of them around these days, nobody pays any attention to them. They often don’t even know each other!”

“Ah, a safety risk father doesn’t know about,” Sansa noted. “Is that supposed to calm me down?”

“Sansa, it’s fine, Agvan will protect us!" nothing seemed like a problem to Jeyne. "If only you saw him. Everything about him is so kind and loving, even his yurt is like our little heaven.”

“You’ve been to his yurt?” Sansa squeaked out. “Jeyne, what were you thinking? Risking your reputation, your entire life for… for what? A wildling doesn’t have anything. No land, no money, no position.”

“He has future!” Jeyne protested. “And love. He’s the smartest man I know. I told you he’s been taking care of very important tasks, he’s been handsomely rewarded for that. He does have money. He has talked to the king himself about the dragonglass! And he didn’t inherit anything, he doesn’t take anything for granted, he works hard for everything.”

“Ah, so there are no family possessions to rely on in the times of need.”

“Not everyone has to be a lord to mean something, Sansa. There are some of us who can live even without a title.” 

Well, that was uncalled for. Sansa was amazingly charitable, she loved all people, even if they were dirty and smelled bad, she wasn't judgemental. She understood people's hardships, she simply wanted the best for Jeyne. Jeyne needed to marry a lord. A man without a proper family could lose everything and then there’d be nowhere to get help from! Sansa would always support her, no matter what, but Jeyne deserved more than that. Jeyne had always had a problem with falling for the wrong people, but this was even much worse than when she’d been fond of Theon. Had Theon been a nicer person, Sansa would have even been in favour of that union.

“Not everyone needs to be a lord, but it is safer to marry one,” Sansa pointed out gently.

“Why?” Jeyne retorted. “My father is not a lord, either, are you suggesting that my mother should have chosen a different man?”

Sansa pursed her lips. This wasn’t what they were talking about!

“And look what Agvan has brought me from King’s Landing!” Jeyne pulled out a beautiful ring out of a little pouch. That was indeed a very expensive gift. Sansa inspected it. Very, very expensive. And beautiful, the man had a good taste, at least. What if he'd stolen it? “Sansa, please, I don’t want you to think lowly of Agvan, he is the love of my life.”

“Love of your life number six?” Sansa raised her brow.

“That’s not fair, Sansa, I was a child then,” Jeyne protested. “This is different. This is true love! Agvan adores me.”

“Who wouldn’t?” Sansa shook her head. “But you deserve so much better, Jeyne, you can have anyone!”

“And I want Agvan. Sansa, please, come with me,” Jeyne grabbed her hand, looking like a desperate little puppy. “Without septa and Arya and the guards, it’s such a different world outside. I’d show you everything, I want you to get to know Agvan. Truly get to know him, without other people bothering us.”

“So, all this time, when you were tired and couldn’t accompany me anywhere… you’ve been sneaking out to meet a strange man?” Sansa realized.

“He’s not a strange man, we’re betrothed!”

“Don’t say that,” Sansa warned.

“We are betrothed,” Jeyne maintained stubbornly. “I’ll marry him, even if everyone is against us, I will! He doesn’t know whose daughter I am, Sansa,” Jeyne giggled, as if it was a great victory. “He doesn’t know who you are. He doesn’t understand life in Winterfell, so I told him we both work for Arya.”

“Didn’t you say he was smart?” Sansa raised her brows.

“He is,” Jeyne seemed genuinely offended. “Do you know what a wolf symbolizes among Thenns? Do you know who the blue lady is? No, you don’t, because you don’t understand the life of the Thenns, either, Sansa! Why should it be any different for him?”

“I am not planning on living among the wildlings. That might be a slight difference.”

“But you are planning on being the queen of the Seven Kingdoms, are you not? And he is learning,” Jeyne kept passionately defending the savage. “Life in Winterfell just isn’t a priority, there are other things to learn about. And Agvan loves me and cares for me, even though he thinks I’m a servant without parents, can you imagine? Please, Sansa, you have to come with me into the settlement,” she begged. “So many men have been interested in me only because they saw profit in it, they thought they’d get closer to your family, or they wanted my dowry. I’m tired of it. Agvan loves me for who I am, we have so much fun together.”

“Fun?” Sansa repeated incredulously. Fun? What kind of word was that to describe a relationship?! 

But Jeyne ignored it. “He doesn’t want my father’s money or position, he doesn’t want anything from me, just love. And he’s so wonderful!”

Sansa didn’t trust men who wanted just love. Jeyne was too good for some wildling. A Thenn. A man who wanted just love and courted a woman without even being introduced to her family. A man who allowed his lady to sneak out of the castle like a thief, without guards or protection. That wasn’t behaviour of a good man, oh no. And what if someone would learn about Jeyne’s behaviour? What if… So many horrible things could happen. 

And thus, one day, Sansa found herself in the settlement again, dressed like a septa, with her poor friend, also dressed as a septa. And there was a wolf accompanying the two septas, how very inconspicuous. But they did need some protection at least. And one look would be enough for Lady to know how horrible the man was. And if he’d as much as say a bad word to Jeyne, Lady had wonderful teeth to deal with that, too.

“Jeyne!” A young, handsome man run to Sansa’s friend. He was… well… he wasn’t the worst looking man. Perhaps he was even comely. Very comely. For a wildling. For a man. Well…

Jeyne smiled abashedly. “Alayne, this is Agvan. And Agvan, this is my dearest friend, Alayne.”

The man nodded. “I’m so happy to finally meet you, Alayne. But careful with the names here,” he chuckled. “Thenns live almost the same way as people south of the Wall, but some of the savages use names differently than we do.”

“Thank you for the advice,” Sansa smiled politely.

“I hope you wouldn’t mind trying some of our food. My mother has prepared Jeyne’s favourite meal for the two of you.” 

“Thank you, that is very kind,” Sansa nodded, acting as if none of this was odd to her. It had been so shockingly easy to get out of Winterfell, all she'd needed to do was to dress differently and make Lady leave earlier, so that they could meet outside of Winterfell. And now she’d have another wildling meal. In a yurt. Without the presence of her septa. Dressed as a septa herself. While Sansa’s poor mother thought Sansa was at the steward's house, working with Jeyne on dresses for when the king would arrive. And the Thenn didn’t think it was odd she had a wolf with her. All normal. Sansa wasn’t anxious at all, she was smiling and she was dignified, so all was well. Wonderful even. She wouldn't be scared of the wildlings, no, courtesy was a lady’s armour. “Your mother knows about Jeyne?”

“Of course, she loves her,” Agvan beamed. “She’s so happy for us. I’m the only of my siblings left, so I think she can’t wait to have grandchildren.”

Sansa smiled politely. Jeyne having children with a wildling wasn’t something she was ready to even consider yet. Mercifully, it turned out that the merchants had their yurts right on the road to Winterfell, not deep in the settlement as Sansa had expected. Lady could accompany her then without scaring any people, good. Lady did like that, she proudly walked into the yurt as the first one, looking curiously around. She knew she was on an important mission. She did like the yurt immediately. It smelled nice, like great food. And the man smelled nice, too, she liked him. 

Sansa glanced at her wolf in surprise. Why did Lady have to like the man? Perhaps he did seem trustworthy and honest, but he was still wildling. He wasn’t scared of Lady, however. Not at all, Lady always liked that. Honest man, the direwolf decided. She sat herself down by the low, round table in the middle of the yurt, looking pointedly at the pot in front of her. Agvan stared at the direwolf for a moment, furrowing his brows. He slowly, carefully pulled the pot away from her. Lady cocked her head, piercing him with her eyes.

“Where is you mother?” Sansa inquired.

“She had some business to take care of," Agvan explained. "But she’ll be back, if you want to talk to her.”

Ah, so he had tricked them! “I assumed we wouldn’t be alone with a man in a yurt," Sansa said coldly.

“Yes, well… is that not proper?” Agvan looked genuinely confused. What a savage! He was confused that two maidens could mind being alone with an adult man in one house. Not even a house. A yurt. A yurt decorated with tapestries! What kind of person decorated a yurt with tapestries? Well, come to think of it, there were wolves depicted on many of them. They were quite pretty. Wolves were always pretty, of course. It was fortunate that even wildlings celebrated them. Aww, so many wolves all around them! Wolves everywhere. Sansa smiled. Very well, he wasn’t the worst man Jeyne could have chosen.

“It’s perfectly fine, Agvan,” Jeyne smiled.

Perfectly fine? Truly?

“I’m told you’ve seen the king,” Sansa decided to change the topic.

Agvan nodded. “We needed him to agree to send some supplies up north. He did, fortunately, he didn’t waste a moment, which is exactly what we needed. He is very supportive, when it comes to our war.”

“Did you see the prince?” Sansa asked.

“Ah, yes, his cat kept running over the papers Lord Stark had given us for the king,” Agvan chuckled. “The prince was very kind to us.”

Of course, he was. Sansa smiled. Everyone loved Joffrey. But since when did Joffrey have a cat? Why didn’t he tell that to Sansa? He was so adorable, Sansa loved how much he cared about all the living things.

Sansa knew already that the wildlings didn't have chairs and she had to sit down on the floor. She didn't even blink, she handled it with remarkable grace. And she politely thanked Agvan for the soup. It was a bit too red for Sansa's liking, but she was pleasantly surprised by the taste. Perhaps the wildling food wasn’t as bad as she’d feared. And Agvan found even some meat for Lady, the direwolf was very happy about that. Sansa looked up and sighed, putting the bowl down again. Agvan and Jeyne looked very beautiful together. Their little glances and blushes were rather sweet to see. It was always wonderful to see people in love and Jeyne deserved a husband who’d adore her as much as Joffrey adored Sansa. 

But the man distractedly touched Jeyne’s cheek, which was too much even for Sansa. “What do you sell, Agvan?”

“I used to sell our furs south of the Wall and southern weaponry north of the Wall,” he explained. “Now it’s a bit of everything, I provide all sorts of trade between the Free Folk and your people. Nobody makes better coats, hats and boots than the Free Folk, we still have the best woodcarvers. And we still need to buy things we cannot get from animals and wood. I’ll provide well for Jeyne.”

“Do you have any children?” Sansa inquired.

“No.”

“Bastards, then?”

“We don’t make a difference between children. I don’t have any. I would love to, though,” he looked at Jeyne, smiling. If Sansa were anything like Arya, she’d have rolled her eyes at him for that. It was lovely, seeing all children as equal, the consequences were never equal, however. Sansa did make a difference between children. If Jeyne were to have a child in marriage, she would be supported and cared for, the society would continue to love her, even if her husband were to die. If she were to have a child out of wedlock, her life would be ruined. That was quite a difference.

“And you have asked Jeyne to marry you.”

“Yes,” Agvan nodded eagerly, glancing lovingly at Jeyne. “It would be the greatest honour.”

“Indeed,” Sansa agreed and ignored the look Jeyne shot at her. What? Whether a septa without any money, or a steward’s daughter, Jeyne was the best bride the man could ever ask for. “Have you ever been married before, Agvan?”

“I have not.”

“Our marital vows are not breakable, you cannot end a marriage here,” Sansa pointed out.

“I’m aware of that.”

“And where do you plant to live, then?”

“Well… the war is coming soon,” he shrugged. “I’ll fight. Try to protect Jeyne and everyone. If I survive, I’ll find us a house in a city and give Jeyne anything she wants.”

“Which city?” Did he want to separate Jeyne from all her friends?

“That is difficult to plan before the war is decided," he admitted. "A lot will change. But if Jeyne has any preference, that’s where we’ll move. I don’t know it here so well.”

That was a good answer. Sansa had always wanted Jeyne to become her lady-in-waiting. And perhaps Agvan could represent the Thenns at the court? They needed to have someone in King's Landing, so that the king would know about their problems. And father thought that some esteemed wildlings would have to become lords after the war in order to make the Free Folk equal among the people of the Seven Kingdoms. If Agvan had already been trusted with important tasks in King's Landing, it made sense to make him a lord.

“And if you don’t survive?”

The man raised his brow at Sansa’s direct question. “She’ll get all my money and she’ll be well provided for, too. My mother is already taken care of. Even wildlings have money, you know.”

Sansa knew that know, even if she hadn’t realized it before. It was true that the man’s yurt seemed very nice, indeed. The tapestry alone had to be incredibly expensive. His clothes, too. It didn’t seem like he was exaggerating when it came to his wealth. And the way he looked at Jeyne, it was as if she was the most precious thing in the world. And Jeyne looked so very happy next to him. It felt right. Lady thought so, too. He had given the wolf some amazing meat, Lady considered that particularly important, even though she was momentarily distracted by some footsteps she noticed.

Oh, dear, this was just what Sansa needed. A wildling who was a great match for Jeyne. And how exactly was Sansa supposed to convince Jeyne’s father of that? He must have had completely different plans for his daughter. Perhaps they could get lordship for Agvan first, the steward would then see him as a much better match. Thanks to her secret inquires, Sansa now knew that Agvan's role in getting the dragonglass was a very important one according to Sansa's father. If the dragonglass was truly needed, shouldn't he be rewarded for his service? Surely, Joffrey would help Sansa with that, he loved her very much.

Lady suddenly sat up and ran outside. What was wrong with her?! Sansa looked after her, horrified. Lady had never behaved like this before the wildlings came! “Excuse me, please,” Sansa blurted and rushed after her wolf. “Lady!”

An enormous man was standing there, his back wider than the yurt door. Of course, he was there, Sansa had already sensed Lady’s excitement. This wasn’t a good day, this wasn’t a good day at all. And the Hound turned around to face her, a wicked smile spread on his lips. 

Sansa sighed, stuck her head in the yurt once more. “I’ll be right back!” she woofed, glad to see Agvan jump away from Jeyne. 

The Hound didn’t greet her, instead he looked at her clothes. “Septa?” he growled. “You septa?”

“Good day to you, too, ser.”

“You septa?”

The man was unabashedly looking over her body. There was never anything discreet about the man. Sansa was so warmly dressed, there was nothing to see, anyway. But still, he shouldn’t be looking at her like this!

The Hound on the other hand wasn't wearing armour today and he had an axe in his hand, clearly having had chopped some wood just moments before. Why would a chief do that? Somehow, he looked even more enormous without his armour. Sansa swallowed. He was so big. If he were to fall on Sansa, the mere weight of him would crush her, she was sure of it. And he looked so strong, too…

The Hound was wearing a different hat than all the other wildlings, it covered much more of his face, but that made sense with his scars. His scars seemed to have been caused by fire, but today’s cold could have been devastating for his face just as much. With so much raw skin exposed, without the protection of his hat, he’d probably be dead before the sunset. Sansa would have made the hat a bit differently, however, this had to be uncomfortable against the sensitive skin.

“You septa?” he repeated once more.

Sansa would rather not talk about the ridiculous costume Jeyne had made her wear. “I told you that’s my wolf,” she returned to the original topic. She’d already known the Hound hadn’t realized who she was and she’d much prefer not tell him, especially after he saw her dressed like this.

The Hound seemed displeased for some reason. “In Winterfell singer think did.”

“Yes, I do sing in Winterfell.”

“But you septa?”

“People can be many things at once, Ser Hound.”

His mouth twitched. “I couldn’t find you in Winterfell,” this was a perfectly learnt sentence, accompanied by a particularly perfected scowl. “The Old Wolf say did… no singer. The Old Wolf you secret make. Why?”

“Oh, no, I assure you, Lord Stark wouldn’t do that!”

“I couldn’t find you,” the Hound grumbled. Sansa knew that all too well. It was fortunate that for the past few weeks he’d been asking servants and villagers about a beautiful singer with hair of autumn leaves, but never about a redhead with a wolf. The man hadn’t realized yet how rare direwolves were and Sansa wouldn’t be the one educating him. Father preferred not to talk about his daughters in front of wildling men, he didn’t want to introduce them and Sansa was starting to understand why. 

The Hound shook his head. “I’ll be your guide here.”

“No, I have some…” Sansa glanced back at Agvan’s yurt. “I have some things to do.”

“And I guide.”

“No, thank you, that is very kind of you, but I do not need a guide.”

“Not question,” he rasped. “I guide.”

“And I am politely declining.”

He huffed in annoyance. “You don’t know the customs of our people,” he said. “You make mistakes. Your actions are dangerous. Your words get misunderstood. You are not safe, Little Bird. I will keep you very safe.”

Sansa blinked, but then she smiled. “Oh.” She was the little bird after all! She had been correct in her assumptions, wasn’t she clever? He had been talking about her with a septon. Not about other women, not about some wild beauties, but her. Even when people didn’t know who she was, they were charmed by Sansa’s beauty. Jeyne had perhaps had a point, there was something alluring about that idea.

“I don’t like septas,” he added.

Well… what? 

“I will be your guide around here,” the man continued. “Your buggers are stupid. I will keep you very safe. Your buggers can die.”

Charming. “I don’t think you mean what you’re saying, ser,” Sansa pointed out.

“I think right. Your actions get misunderstood. I had to explain to five people that you were not interested in them,” he recited sentences he’d learn in their entirety. Why were these particular sentences so important for him? There were many other things he should know how to say first. “I will keep you very safe, little bird.”

“I don’t need you to keep me safe.”

“Your chief here?” he countered.

Sansa looked around. Was he asking her if she was a chief? What… what had they been talking about? “I am not a chief,” she assured him. “You are the chief, Ser Hound.” Shouldn’t he know that?

He laughed at that, his laughter like iron scraping over stone. „Lady from Winterfell?” he explained what he meant. “You Lady from Wintefell work. Short girl. Brown hair. Old Wolf daughter.”

“Ah, Arya Stark? You think I work for Arya Stark?”

“I know it. I ask. Thenn say.”

And Sansa could bet she knew which Thenn had spread such information. Yes, a young septa who only occasionally wore her robes, a septa who sang, worked for Arya Stark and had a big, beautiful wolf, what an excellent disguise that was. Sansa’s head ached so much. If her mother would learn about all this wickedness, Sansa wouldn’t be allowed to leave Winterfell until her wedding day. But it was also thrilling. What a humbling experience it would be, being treated like a commoner! Those were Sansa’s favourite stories. A beautiful princess dressed as a commoner and earning everyone’s love even without her position. It was such a beautiful idea. Someone would write a song about this, she was sure of it.

“Wolf. No name. Old Wolf daughter Wolf here. Name here dangerous,” the Hound made the same point as Jeyne’s man. “Your words get misunderstood. You make mistakes. Our buggers are stupid.”

“Is it possible that everyone seems stupid to you, ser?”

“Yes,” the Hound wholeheartedly agreed for once.

“Ah.”

“Not you,” the Hound chuckled. “You are too… septa.”

“I am too septa?”

“Yes.”

Sansa wasn’t entirely sure if it was a compliment.

“My people always misunderstand your customs, expect wrong things,” the Hound explained. “My people stupid. Your people misunderstand our customs. Your people stupid. People other different understand not. People stupid.”

“Only you are clever?”

“I’m the Hound. I don’t expect shite from anyone.”

Once again uncle Brynden’s words spoken in a much scarier voice. Sansa would have to have a word with her uncle. Why couldn’t he have taught the wildlings how to pray instead?

“Perhaps you should try expecting more of people,” Sansa educated the wildlings herself. "Talk to the people, explain to them what they're doing wrong. And ask them what they need. It helps, it builds trust. I always ask poor people what they need and when I provide it for them, they are much more open to hear my advice. People will listen to you more, if they see you have good intentions."

“You ask and..." he repeated incredulously. "What?" the Hound groaned loudly. "How you not dead?! You don’t understand anything!” he kept insulting her further.

“Of course, I understand! I just think that it’s not helpful when you look at people with scorn. You are the chief, you have power, Lord Stark trusts you. You have a great responsibility for these people! You can help the understanding between the Free Folk and people south of the Wall. Surely you want things to be different, to be better,” she said profoundly.

“Want? People want… you know, girl? What I want?” he bent down, so that his face was so close she could feel his breath on her skin. Such a face should appear only in nightmares, how could anyone even look like this. There was something very terrifying about his eyes, they looked so angry.

“Of course,” Sansa wouldn’t let that intimidate her. Lady was sure that the Hound meant no harm and Sansa trusted her judgement. If he’d try to do something, Lady would bite him in his behind. “I understand people very well! I talk with them every day, instead of growling at everyone.”

“Oh, you know?” he mocked her. “True know?”

“Of course! Everyone here wants peace, everybody wants us all to get along, nobody to be hungry. It’s what we all want.”

“But I want you, girl,” the monster growled.

"What?" Sansa breathed out.

“I want to spread your legs," he continued. "I want to feast on your sweet cunt all night. And day. And night. That you know? You know all I think from first see?”

Sansa froze. Surely he couldn’t be saying… They'd been talking about world peace! “Well… what… how… what…”

“You ask what people want, you give? I want your teats in my mouth and your cunt around my cock, girl. I want to fuck you into my bed,” he continued, not even turning away in shame. He was looking at her as if she was his dinner, there was that horrible glint in his eyes again. How could he even know how to say such things, Sansa herself didn’t have the language for it!

“How can you say that?!” Sansa squeaked out. Nobody had ever insulted her so much! Nobody would ever think of such horrifying things, he was just trying to come up with the most appalling ideas to scare her. 

“You say… want more better. Give people what want. That’s what I want, girl,” he rasped in his inhuman voice. “All men here? Women? When they you look, it all they want. You say expecting more of people, expecting better,” he snorted. “See? Stupid. What I want no matter. Safe what matter.”

“You can’t… you can’t speak like that. Not with me, not with anyone!”

“I’m just honest,” he shrugged. “People are horrible. People are stupid. People are misunderstand. People want shag. You’re the prettiest woman in the world. You’re not safe. Learn!”

“You are the chief here, Ser Hound, you should lead by example and behave accordingly!”

“I’m no ser. No chief.”

“Of course, you are the chief, everybody says that!” Did he have to contradict everything Sansa said?

“Not I.”

“You have the right to carry out justice in the settlement,” Sansa argued.

“Kill, you mean. Chief killer.”

“A chief.”

“No, killer. My grandfather chief was. He..." the Hound suddenly stopped, looking down, for once his tone not mocking at all, not even angry. "He people big care, big good. He to people love. I am not that."

The bitterness in his voice turned into great sadness. It startled Sansa. She quietly observed the man. A enormous, terrifying beast of a man whose voice quivered at the memory of his grandfather. It made Sansa think of Arya, who snapped at her whenever she started talking about Robb. The anger was easier to deal with for her than the pain. And this man must have endured a lot of pain, more than Sansa could even imagine. "He would be proud of you," she said quietly.

The Hound looked at her, his eyes glistening. "What?" he breathed out.

"I have heard that you saved many people, Ser Hound. And that you are very fair and just. I'm sure people love you, even if you don't know it."

Now it was the Hound who had no words. Sansa gently touched his shoulder, trying to comfort him. It helped, because the anger in his eyes was gone for now. He had grey eyes that could somehow reflect all the colours of human emotions, they were so expressive. For a moment, Sansa couldn't quite look away, drawn to the intensity of his gaze. "Your grandfather must have been a great chief," she whispered. It didn't feel right to speak more loudly while the Hound was lost in his memories. He nodded, remaining silent. He had loved his grandfather very much, hadn't he? Sansa smiled at him. "And your brother, too. You have had great chiefs in your family."

And just like that, the Hound's expression hardened again, the rage returning to his soulful eyes. "My brother?” he sniggered.

“Yes, I've heard that you inhereted your position after him. I truly feel for your loss, I’ve recently lost my brother, too.”

If Sansa expected sympathy, she couldn’t have been more mistaken. He jerked away from her. “I never nothing my brother inherit," the Hound snarled. "Hell go.”

What did he mean? Who should go to hell? Sansa? “I was only being polite! I know how devastating it is to lose a brother, never see him again…”

“I see him again did.”

“Oh, of course, you got to say goodbye, kiss him one last time,” Sansa nodded in understanding, touching his arm again in compassion. “I didn’t get that with my brother.”

“Kiss?”

“Yes, kiss him goodbye.”

The Hound looked at her as if she’d said the most ridiculous thing. Sansa always said only reasonable things, however, everyone wanted to kiss their loved ones goodbye when their time came. She was sure the Hound had also kissed the… Mountain? Was that the name of his brother? Sansa would never understand why her father couldn’t bring Robb and his wolf back, so that they could be buried at home, so that she could visit his grave every day, talk to her brother. But Robb’s grave was empty, there were only ashes of Robb and his wolf there. Sansa had never got to see her brother again, she didn’t get to help with washing him, preparing his body, giving him the Seven blessings before the funeral. She didn’t get to say a goodbye. Even that had got taken away from the Starks. She understood the Hound’s grief perfectly. 

“You stupid? Dead bite,” the Hound growled. 

“You bite your deceased instead of kissing them goodbye?” Sansa gasped, horrified. 

The Hound shook his head. “No goodbye. My brother still walk.”

Well, that was confusing. “He is not dead?”

“He is dead,” the man nodded. “Didn’t help,” he muttered darkly.

“I don’t understand.”

“No,” the Hound nodded. “You don’t understand shite.”

“That is very rude of you to say! And I don’t believe it’s the foreign language making you speak that way, you are rude on purpose, Ser Hound!”

“Ah, big astonish,” the beast mocked her. 

Why did he have to do that? When he'd reminisced about his grandfather, he'd seemed so sweet. And now he was back to being his awful self, avoiding any true connection. Sansa didn't have time for that, she had a Thenn to interrogate. “And now I will bid you good day, I would appreciate it if you left my wolf alone,” she let the man know she wouldn't tolerate his rude behaviour.

“No good day. I go with you.”

Sansa glanced back at Agvan’s yurt, where two heads were peaking out of the door. Sansa thought Agvan would come to her rescue, but the couple returned to the yurt just as quickly as they looked out. Apparently, nobody, including Lady, Sansa’s father and Sansa’s dearest friend and her savage man, nobody had a problem with the giant bothering her, it was unbelievable!

“Thank you, but I am fine on my own.”

The Hound stopped her again and Lady didn’t move to bite him even a little bit. “You’re not safe. You don’t understand these people, little bird,” he held her arm, not ungently. “Most near corner… someone you rape.”

How could he say that? Did he enjoy speaking of revolting things? “Why do you have to be so awful?”

“I’m the Hound. I awful, but I’ll keep you very safe. I’m your guard today, whether you like it, or not,” he snarled. “I’ll kill anyone who threatens you and you can hate me for it all you want. I don’t give a rat’s arse,” he assured her. These? These were sentences he’d felt compelled to learn? “Shall we go?” he added in the most formal manner possible. Sansa opened her mouth and closed it again. Words weren’t enough to describe this… this… This! Why couldn’t he go away?

“I don’t need you,” Sansa told the giant. 

“Need,” the Hound growled, offering her his arm again. He hadn’t learnt a sentence for that, had he? “I’ll keep you very safe,” he used his universally applicable sentence instead. Sansa had to agree with the septon that the Hound had a very good ear. When the giant learnt a sentence, he could repeat it with an admirable accuracy. Sansa had a feeling he was a very smart man, too, always assessing his surrounding. Unfortunately, his sentence range was limited to great many awful things, so having an argument was proving to be rather difficult. She decided to take his arm after all, it would probably be easier this way. He could show her a different side of the settlement, she'd at least learn more about the problems that were being hidden from her. And then he'd hopefully let her go. Sansa still disapproved of his behaviour, however. She’d have to dedicate her evening to praying for the Hound’s improvement. The Hound was horrible, but as the future queen, Sansa could be gracious even towards the worst savage.


	6. Chapter 6

It was odd, walking through the settlement with the Hound. People kept staring even more than the last time she was there. And whenever Sansa looked at them, they didn’t look away, they saw no shame in staring at all. When Sansa saw a little boy hide behind his mother, however, it made her quite worried.

“Won’t people be afraid of Lady?” she asked the Hound. “Osha said they’d be afraid.”

“Who cares?”

“Well, I do! And Lady, she doesn’t want to scare people, either. I could put a leash on her at least, so that people feel better.”

“Who cares?”

Sansa sighed and decided to ignore the man’s comments, he probably didn’t know a better response anyway. She put a leash on Lady, hoping it would help. Lady was always a bit amused by that gesture, the leash was all loose and there was no way Sansa would ever be able to stop Lady if she decided to do anything. But it usually made people feel safer. And that's what Sansa expected to happen here, too, until she noticed an adult man anxiously eyeing them from a distance. He wasn't looking at Lady, he was afraid of the Hound. Ah. Interesting. A direwolf was less threatening to some that the chief himself.

Not everybody was scared, fortunately. One oddly dressed young man with painted face even waved at Sansa. It was rather sweet, so she waved back, smiling at him. But the Hound immediately stopped her. “Don’t do that.”

“What?” Sansa gasped. “Why?”

“Sign.”

“What sign?”

“Cave dwellers. Don’t hand... hand thing do," he waved himself to explain what he meant. "Cave dwellers stupid. Misunderstand.”

“I see.” She didn’t exactly want the Hound to repeat what the Cave dweller could have been thinking. Or any other man, for that matter. She was sure Joffrey never had such horrible thoughts, he only wanted to love Sansa, he never even wrote to her about his dreams of kissing her. Joffrey only ever wrote about his wonderful accomplishments, he was so polite. The Hound on the other hand… “Where are you taking me?” Sansa asked. “Perhaps you could bring me to the orphans?”

“What?”

“I thought we could go to see the orphans. There are so many of them!”

“You up want, little bird,” he grumbled. 

Up want. Right. What was he even saying? Was it something rude? He was unbelievable! The man had thought it important enough to learn the most awful, obscene sentences and words, but he didn’t even know how to tell her where he was taking her?! What a savage! Sansa didn’t even want to think about how he spent his nights, if his words reflected his priorities. His yurt was probably always filled with ladies of ill repute. Wildlings surely found his terrifying, muscled frame attractive, they were true savages after all. They didn’t know true beauty, there were no Joffreys in their settlement. Sansa frowned. The Hound likely said those improper words to everyone, he spent his days bedding every woman he looked at. The mere idea was quite upsetting. At least until Sansa remembered the Hound's conversation with the septon. The Hound had kept talking about her. And only her. There had been no girls around him, instead he’d spent his evening learning sentences to later use with Sansa. And he’d learnt so much more than what she’d heard on that night, weeks ago. He’d looked for her, too. Well… that… that was confusing. Sansa was glad she'd at least made an impression.

“Hey, hey, hey!” a barefoot man yelled at Sansa. “You want?” he asked, offering her some dried berries. Oh, they’d already met, hadn’t they? The last time Sansa when Sansa had been walking passed by him, he’d pressed a little pin into her hand. It had been very pretty. And then Osha noticed the pin and took it away from Sansa, throwing it at the man. Sansa was still a bit sad she didn’t get to keep it.

“Don’t,” the Hound hissed, dragging her away.

Sansa liked berries. Why couldn’t he let her eat berries? “Don’t tell there’s a hidden meaning, too!”

“Of course! No gifts! Hornfoots stupid buggers. Last time he you want. Stupid! He likes. No gifts!”

“There’s nothing wrong with liking me! Many people like me.”

“I know!” he groaned. “That’s the problem!” there was the Riverrun accent again. This truly had to be influence of the Blackfish, nobody else who the Hound could have met spoke like this. What had those two been doing together that the Hound learnt to mimic uncle Brynden’s pronunciation so perfectly? Uncle was back in Riverrun, gathering men to bring up north, but before he'd left, he had spoken very nicely about the wildlings. He’d said that southern knights had a lot to learn from wildling warriors. Had he meant the Hound? Sansa could easily imagine the beast fighting more efficiency than knights, who fought the proper way.

Sansa was glad the Hound was with her, however. All the rules wildlings had were so confusing. Sansa was determined to be more careful, she didn't want to behave wickedly in anybody's eyes. Well, she already did feel unbelievably wicked. She was with a man, without a septa, exploring the settlement once again. Even without breaking wildling rules, this was an unacceptable situation altogether. She giggled. It was oddly exciting, Sansa had never behaved in such an utterly unrestrained manner before. It was as if there were no boundaries, she could do and say anything, she wasn’t recognizing herself. Sansa Stark was capable of an utterly reckless behaviour, Arya had no idea! Today, Sansa was capable of anything, she could… she could… she could let her hair loose!

Well, that wasn’t possible in the robes of a septa, her hair was completely covered now. But she would be capable of it, she was sure of it. Now that she’d got to know the wild side of her soul, she could very well imagine herself walking among people with her hair loose. Or at least she would only braid it and leave it like that. With a cap. A small one, however, she was capable of anything. She felt positively wild.

The Hound looked down at her, a bit perplexed by her excitement. “I’ll keep you very safe,” he murmured.

“I know,” she beamed at him.

The Hound swallowed, staring into her eyes for an uncomfortably long moment. When he looked away, he shook his head. “Akaarı,“ he grumbled to himself.

„What were you saying?“

„Nothing.“

He’d been swearing, hadn’t he? Sansa was sure he’d been swearing, he probably knew more awful words even in Sansa’s own language than she did. Sansa was a good girl. She did feel very safe with him, however. And it was obvious he commanded a lot of respect in the settlement. Nobody was smiling, waving at him, like they were at Sansa, some men looked scared, or intimidated, but most people looked at the man with respect. A bit like northerners looked at father. That was quite interesting to see.

Sansa smiled at a group of women, dressed in the most beautiful embroidered clothes. 

“Careful around People of the Frozen Shore,” the Hound told her.

Sansa let out an exasperated sigh. “Let me guess, they are stupid?”

“Yes, very. You’re learning,” he appreciated.

“And what about the Starks, are the Starks stupid, too?” Sansa wanted to know.

“Starks?” the Hound raised his brow. “Why Starks?”

“I’m just asking.”

“You castle work. You know.”

“I’d like to know your opinion.”

“You… the brown hair girl. For she work. She… she cruel?” the Hound inquired.

“Arya?” Sansa gasped. “No, she’s not cruel at all, quite the opposite!”

“Opposite?”

“She’s very kind to everyone, and quite funny, too. And very, very clever. Just… don’t tell her that I said it,” Sansa laughed for herself.

“What?” the Hound frowned.

“She’s very kind.”

“Good,” the Hound nodded. “Good. Nobody little bird hit. The Old Wolf… Not bad. Not strong. Not best fight. But honest. He good, I think. Help give. But he buggers trust. He leech man trust. Bad idea.”

“The leech man? Lord Stark trusts the leech man? You mean Lord Roose, don’t you?”

The Hound nodded. “Bad idea.”

“Well, at least there we are in agreement,” Sansa noted. She’d never been so forward with her opinions, but the Hound had said so many horrible things, it truly didn’t matter anymore what else would be said. Nobody could pretend this was a proper conversation anyway.

The Hound eyed her for a moment. “You like not? Leech man?”

“No, I certainly do not like Lord Roose.”

The Hound snorted. “Good,” he thought about it and frowned again, however. “Did… leech man against little bird hand?”

“Oh, no, no!” Sansa blurted out. “He’d never try anything against me. But he…” she hesitated. “He does not behave well towards women. Please, Ser Hound, will you promise to keep the women of the settlement away from him? And any vulnerable people, for that matter. He’s horrible towards children, too. Towards anyone who has less power than him.”

The Hound nodded. “You’re right. If he they hurt, I his head cut.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Very simple. Leech man thin neck.”

“He’s a lord.”

“With thin neck.”

“That’s…” Well, it wasn’t the worst point the Hound could have made. So far, he’d listened to Sansa’s opinions more than her father had done in her entire lifetime. Sansa shook her head. She was a lady, she shouldn’t be thinking with such bitterness about her own father. “I wish Lord Stark would understand this as much you do. Lord Roose is horrible, dangerous. Lady cannot stand him,” Sansa pointed out. “And Lady is an amazing judge of character.”

The Hound smiled a genuine smile and nodded. “Lady clever.”

It was the first time the Hound called someone clever and he was talking about Lady. Of course, he appreciated Lady, she was the smartest wolf. Even a savage couldn’t ignore that! Sansa beamed at him. “She is rather, isn’t she? She recognized someone stole from us, when the guards didn’t notice anything! And she learnt to open all the doors in the castle all by herself. And you know what?” she remembered excitedly. “She brings me a warm blanket, before I even realize I feel cold, isn’t it sweet?”

The Hound chuckled. “I understand. I have a dog.”

Sansa knew that of course, but she couldn’t admit it. She could feel she was blushing, however. It was hard, having secrets, how did people do it? 

“That’s nice.”

“Stranger,” he looked at her, searching for shock in her expression, but Sansa merely raised her eyebrows. She’d already known the dog’s name. And she wouldn’t give the Hound the satisfaction of being mortified by his choices. Had he named his dog only to shock people?

The Hound was clearly surprised, but he continued anyway. “Best dog. Our. He wild pup were. The Others wanted to take him, but I didn’t let them. Now he’s mine,” he said with no small of satisfaction. “He stay with me want. His choose,” he boasted.

He knew some odd sentences by heart. Sansa didn’t understand what he meant by saying that the Others nearly took his dog, since the Others were odd beings of silly folk tales. But she loved how proud he was that his dog chose to stay with him. “You saved him?”

“He’s mine,” the Hound nodded. “He learn, too. Everything. Fast.”

“He is clever,” Sansa said softly.

“Yes.”

“Cleverer than people?”

“Of course.” 

They both laughed at that. Sansa loved to see genuine mirth in his eyes, she couldn’t quite look away. She swallowed nervously. There was also something horrible in the man's gaze. Sansa held onto his arm a little tighter. It was a huge arm. Nobody should have such an enormous arm. Nobody should be looking at her in this way. It was all very disturbing. Scary, of course. Very scary, yes. He was horrible. Huge and muscled and… and huge. And scary. And she shouldn’t be here. Sansa was so terrified, she even forgot how to breathe for a moment, lost in his eyes.

The Hound looked away, clearing his throat. “Septa yurt,” he announced.

“Ser?”

“Septa yurt,” he pointed at a yurt decorated with symbols of the Seven. “May the Seven have mercy upon your soul,” he chuckled. 

Sansa frowned. Why was he saying that? It was written above the door of the yurt, but he couldn’t know that, could he? Had someone told him what was written there? Because if he knew it on his own that would mean…

“Can you read, Ser Hound?” she asked carefully.

“What?” he growled, scowling.

“When you see something written, can you read it?”

“Our written… yes. Your written… learn. I letters know, but read word, no. ‘May the Seven have mercy upon your soul’, yes, I read. Seven shite everywhere.”

“Your writing? What do you mean? Do your people also write?”

The Hound snorted. “What that you think?” he pointed towards a yurt. There were adorable little drawings all around the doorway, the white pain on the dark wood looked very pretty. Many yurts had those decoration, it had already caught Sansa’s interest the last time.

“It’s very pretty,” Sansa admitted. “Our people sometimes draw symbols of the Seven above their doorway to keep away evil spirits, too.”

“That our write. People of the Frozen Shore.”

“You mean…”

“Our write,” the man repeated. “There? Family say write.”

Sansa looked at the yurt again, not quite understanding. Some symbols appeared many times, was it possible that it represented words? Or sounds? Surely, the Hound didn’t mean that the wildlings had their own way of writing everything down. Sansa looked at another yurt, decorated with the same symbols. And then another yurt, surrounded by cave dweller children. There were different symbols drawn on the yurt, only above the door, but in several rows. How was it possible? These people were savages! The Seven had been the ones who’d given people their writing, the Wildlings didn’t even believe in the Seven. Wildlings couldn’t write, they couldn’t read, but they ate a lot of people. Those were the main things Sansa had ever learnt about them! The only things. 

“We’ve always been told that the Free Folk couldn’t do these things,” Sansa breathed out, suddenly embarrassed to have believed it in the first place. 

The Hound smirked. “We’ve always been told people south ugly.”

“Indeed?” Sansa had never heard about that. “Well? Have we met your expectations?”

The Hound glanced at her. “My luck,” he snorted. “Where my ugly kingdom? I think did finally right place for I. You fucked it all up, girl.” 

Sansa giggled. Why were it always the impolite sentences that he knew how to say? “I’m sorry to be such a disappointment,” she responded sweetly. The sparkle of amusement in the man’s eyes greatly warmed Sansa’s heart. She hadn’t thought she could be enjoying time with a wildling so much. Time with a man. She’d never been alone with a man before, other than her family. “I think you fit into this place perfectly,” she assured him. “I can’t believe I didn’t know about all these cultures that were nearer to me than King’s Landing.”

Sansa thought about all the stories she’d heard about wildlings eating children from south of the Wall. Septons had always stressed how wildlings lacked any reason, how brutal they were. And such savages could never possibly write. Sansa shivered. 

“What’s wrong?” the Hound asked.

“I don’t know,” Sansa admitted with sadness. “I used to believe that everything septas and septons said was the truest thing. I’d still like to believe it.”

“What?” the Hound didn’t understand.

“It’s just so confusing,” she shook her head. “I preferred it when things were the way they were supposed to be, you know? Nobody was keeping secrets away from me, everyone was saying only truth, everyone could be trusted…”

“That time never were,” the Hound said.

Sansa raised her brows. “You truly know how to comfort people, don’t you, Ser Hound?”

The man shrugged. “Big talent.”

“I can tell.”

The Hound smiled at her. He didn’t seem angry, quite the contrary. “You septa yurt go?”

“No, no, that’s not my intention, but thank you for bringing me here,” Sansa smiled. “But perhaps you could show me where all the important yurts are? So that I don’t get lost the next time? To be honest, I don’t remember any of the yurts.”

He missed the excellent opportunity to tell her how stupid she was. Instead the half-giant pointed at the same yurt again. “Septa yurt.” Then he pointed at another one. “Septon yurt. And Reindeer gatherers of the Frozen Shore shaman yurt,” he pointed at a particularly tall dwelling.

“The septons must be excited about the shaman in their neighbourhood,” Sansa nodded.

“Very,” the Hound agreed, keeping a serious face, until Sansa herself started laughing. A very ladylike laughter, of course, very delicate. But it made the Hound smile and he lead her away to show her more of the yurts.

It turned out all the yurts were not the same after all. It didn’t take long for Sansa to learn to recognize three types of writing and several types of yurts. “And this is an important yurt of the Hornfoots,” Sansa eagerly pointed at another tall yurt.

“Right. Healer.”

“I’ve recognized five yurts in a row!” Sansa pointed out proudly.

The Hound nodded. “Clever Little Bird.”

“I like the settlement, you’ve done so much work here,” Sansa appreciated. She took the man's arm again, even though he didn’t offer it. She enjoyed it better when they walked around the settlement together. She was perhaps dressed like a septa, but she still preferred it when the chief was chivalrously leading her. She hoped she could help him improve his manners further.

The Hound looked at her with slight confusion, tensing suddenly.

“It’s very pretty here,” Sansa continued. 

The Hound frowned, ignoring what she was saying. What was it now? Had she done something wrong again?

“Don’t you think it’s pretty?” she tried to get a response from him.

“You talk too much,” the man growled, annoyed again for some reason.

“I was only admiring the work of your people!” Sansa retorted. “So much has been done here. And the yurts of the People of the Frozen Shore are particularly beautiful.”

“Some too beautiful," he complained, looking at her pointedly.

“What do you mean?”

“You. Too beautiful. I man, cold no help. So near no good idea.” 

Sansa wasn’t sure she understood well. Was he saying she was standing too close to him? “Forgive me,” she let go of his arm. Sansa had always prided herself at being the most well-mannered girl in Westeros, it was her best trait, how could she be failing here so horribly? 

The Hound now looked even more irritated, his mouth twitching. Sansa didn’t understand him at all. “I only meant to say I like it here," she explained gently. "You have a lot to be proud of. Everything is so pretty! And people, too. Your brother truly couldn’t have asked for a better man to take over his duties.”

“Don’t,” he stopped her quietly.

“Forgive me…”

“That don’t, too. No forgive say. You big annoying,” he growled. His face twisted in an angry expression, but then he shook his head, looking at Sansa mockingly. “You my brother know? My brother this did,” he pointed to his scarred face. “When I child… I play… he angry. My face in fire," he chuckled, as if it was amusing, but instead, there was pain behind that sound. "My brother monster. No duties. No good. No pretty. My brother our people ruin.”

“Oh,” Sansa stared at him. 

“Chief good think?" he laughed bitterly. "People of the Frozen Shore good still think? Still pretty?” 

Sansa touched his shoulder. “Yes, I still think People of the Frozen Shore are good and pretty. Your brother wasn't a leader. But you are a true chief, just like your grandfather.”

The Hound looked at her, almost hopeful, his chin trembling. Then he snorted, scowling again. He took his hat off in one angry gesture, exposing his horrifying scars to her in their fullest. His hair was tousled, his expression full of hate again. “Look at me!" he snarled. "You near like, hard cock? Many pretty words. Empty words. This pretty? This?!”

Sansa raised her brows. She was a lady, she wouldn’t be entertaining the Hound's angry outburst. “Well, it should have another layer,” she agreed instead, perfectly poised and collected. 

“What?” It caught the man completely off guard. 

“It should be lined with something much softer,” Sansa explained, pretending not to understand what he'd been snarling about. “See?” she grabbed his hat, showing him how it was the same, coarse bear fur from the inside and from the outside. The hat wasn’t well thought out at all. The man’s face was so irritated, there were scabs, there was something oozing from his skin. And it was such a cold day! It pained Sansa to see the man suffer like this. “This should have been made out of something different, something much softer,” she pointed inside the hat. “And the cut should be different, too, so that it fits more snugly, without obstructing your vision. I’ll make you a hat like that, if you want. I know exactly what I’d use.”

“What?” he looked even more confused.

“I am rather good at making hats, it’s very enjoyable.” Even if she started to talk about this only to distract him, he did need a new hat, something that would be comforting, instead of hurting his skin.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” he snarled in Riverrun accent, suddenly enraged. “Here. For wildlings. No gifts! Never gifts give! Times I repeat? Your actions get misunderstood!”

“I give excellent gifts," Sansa replied calmly.

“Tuoh buola turarıy?!“ the man groaned. „No gift to one people! To many people… good. To one… no! You’ll get so fucked, girl! Don’t do that! Never!”

“Why do you have to be so rude? I know that you have different customs and I shouldn't be giving gifts to the Free Folk, I understand. But this is different."

"Different?"

"Yes, this is between you and I."

He swallowed, staring at her in shock.

"Unlike others, you do understand the differences," Sansa pointed out. "You have given me a great gift today, too, I've learnt more about your culture than in my entire life. Now it's my turn to help you. I mean it. All customs aside, I would love to give you a hat.”

“You same buggers no mean, girl,” he rasped.

“Of course, I mean it, that’s what I’m trying to tell you!” Sansa protested. “I would love to give you a gift.”

He looked angry, but Sansa now knew that he was like that because of the pain he felt. She took off her glove and placed her small hand on his scarred cheek, trying to comfort him. It did stop him. He looked at her, as if he’d seen a ghost. Sansa carefully put his hat back on, so that the cold wouldn’t hurt his face further. He obediently held his head down so that she could achieve it despite his terrifying height.

“How mean?” he barely whispered.

“Well… I mean it. Just like that.”

“Cave dweller way mean? You Cave dweller now?” he snorted, but his mocking tone didn’t sound very convincing this time. There was great insecurity and disbelief in his eyes. Why did he look scared? It wasn’t like Sansa could ever hurt a man of his size.

“Well, I don't know, I don't understand this whole point about presents and why it's wrong. It would simply be a lovely gesture, wouldn’t it?” she explained gently. “Or is it rude of me?” she wanted to genuinely know.

“Lovely mean… Taptal tuһunan eteğin duo?” he looked deep into her eyes. “Love? You love say?”

“Yes, you’d love it. It would be very soft. Lovely.”

“Yes?” he frowned. “Not your custom. You try… Cave dweller way do?” 

“Well, I’m trying to understand your way,” Sansa admitted. Sansa would have to find some book about wildling customs regarding presents. Whenever she thought she was starting to understand, the Hound confused her again. Would Maester Luwin help her? "I shouldn't be giving gifts to others, I will keep that in mind. But can't I give something only to you, Ser Hound? Would that be wrong?” Sansa was completely confused by these customs, all she knew was that her mistakes made the Hound concerned for her safety. But he couldn't possibly be concerned if he was the one receiving something.

“Cave dweller everyone gifts give. One people to one people – lovely ask," he tried to explain. "I am from the Frozen Shore. We very stupid. If woman - woman, man - man lovely ask, everyone gifts give. If woman food give man - lovely ask. Man first fire, after woman allow gifts give - lovely ask. That mean?”

Ah, so people of the Frozen shore didn’t consider it proper for a woman to give a present to a man, they only gave them food as a lovely gesture? Was that what he'd been talking about all this time? That seemed a bit sad, a lot of poor people were men who needed help. And although the Hound didn’t know she was a lady, he did need her help, too. The weather would be only getting colder and his face would get more irritated and inflamed. “Yes, I give gifts, too, not only food. Just like those cave dwellers. I would make it very soft. Very lovely,” she used his new favourite word. “You’d love it, I’m sure!”

He looked at her wide-eyed, as if he thought it was a trap. “You very soft,” he nodded hesitantly. “Nice.” 

What? “Are we still talking about the hat?” Sansa wanted to be sure.

“You understand our custom, little bird?”

“Well, I’m trying.” Sansa was starting to doubt anyone could understand it at all.

“Trying? What trying? Lovely trying?”

“Yes, I want you to feel good.”

He cleared his throat. “Also. I…” he seemed very uncertain. “I want you to feel good,” he repeated after her. 

“Thank you,” she smiled at him. 

„Çııçaağıam... Little bird..." he said quietly, taking her gloveless hand. "Min attıbar kuruuk baar buoluuy."

„I don’t understand.“

Sansa watched in astonishment as he lifted her hand and pressed a gentle kiss on it, his eyes questioning. He didn’t do the gesture right, he didn’t bow as low as was appropriate and the kiss should have been only implied, his lips should never have touched her hand. But still, it was so amazing to see the enormous beast do something so respectful, as if he was a lord and thought her a lady… Sansa beamed at him. A success! She was a wonderful influence on him.


End file.
